


The Fox and the Wolf

by halzbarryscerek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Disney, Fox Stiles, M/M, Wolf Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4181913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halzbarryscerek/pseuds/halzbarryscerek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on "The Fox and the Hound"</p><p>After his mother is killed by hunters, an orphaned fox spirit gets adopted by the Stilinskis and eventually goes by the nickname Stiles. Soon after, Stiles meets Scott McCall—a boy who unknowingly comes from a long line of lycan people. Blissfully unaware that they come from two different worlds, Stiles and Scott become the best of friends and much more. That is until one day, Scott shifts into a werewolf for the first time and is immediately inducted into Derek's pack. As Scott learns the ins and outs of being a werewolf, he is pressured by his Alpha to distance himself from Stiles when it's discovered that Stiles is a fox. After the tragic death of a pack mate and the manipulations of an old fox hunter, Scott is soon forced to choose whether to protect Stiles or be the one to end his life.</p><p>(Or that one Disney AU where Stiles is Tod, Scott is Copper, Derek is Chief, Gerard is Amos, Kira is Vixey, Melissa and Noshiko share the role of Big Mama, and I guess that makes Sheriff Stilinski Widow Tweed.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Huntin' Man

**Author's Note:**

> Doing this bang, I have vast amount of respect for the people who dedicate so much time and energy into fanfic writing. I don't think I've ever done something so hard before. I feel like I almost broke down a time or two, LOL.
> 
> First, I'd like to thank the two people who collaborated with me for the bang, **[ravingliberal](http://ravingliberal.tumblr.com/)** and **[pietromaksimoffs](http://pietromaksimoffs.tumblr.com/)**. The fanmix and the graphics were great, thank you. And you're both very sweet. Second, I wanna show some love to my bae-ta **[Dan](http://brosciles.tumblr.com/)**. Thanks for having my back. Third, I wanna give my props to my fellow Sciles shippers and Big Bang writers because this was definitely not easy to do. You guys rock and are amazing for all of your hard work for Sciles. And fourth, I'd also like to give a shout out to my Scerek shippers. I added in a dash of Scerek to this fic because I know we've been getting a lot of shit from a certain anon. I promise to write you guys something lovely after this  <3
> 
> Because of circumstances, and with the gracious permission of the SBB admins, I'm going to post the chapters in increments. There's only five big chapters plus a prologue and a chapter dedicated to the fanmix. I promise the full story will be posted by the 30th.
> 
>  **Minor pairings:** Scott/Derek (minor), Stiles/Kira (brief), Erica/Boyd (minor)

It had rained the past week, so the ground was all mushy and slippery. One wrong move and someone could fall at an inopportune moment.

A woman in her mid-thirties was currently clawing her way through thick trees and bushes as she desperately tried to find her way to the main path. From behind, she could hear them coming for her. The wolves that the hunters had released had been tracking her and her kit down the entire night, but she got one over on them. Always a clever trickster, the fox.

 _Disgusting beasts_ , she thought angrily.

They had been stalking her family for weeks until they finally came out from the shadows to attack. Her husband had tried his best to fight them off, but he was easily killed, leaving his wife and his two-year-old son Crevan out on the run.

She had managed to lose them on the main road downtown until she was able to get to the hospital and leave her sleeping baby in the waiting area by the reception desk. She could've stayed there, in the safe zone with her kit, but that would just delay the inevitable. They'd camp out, waiting for her to leave with her child until they could chase her down again and kill them both. She knew that she had to leave Crevan and it hurt her worse than anything having to do it, but it had to be done.

Her heart was beating a mile a minute as she wound through the trees, not caring about the dull ache in her feet. With great agility, she leapt over a boulder and clamped on a thick tree trunk with small, sharp claws before climbing to the top.

Suddenly, a howling sound could be heard from behind. She whipped her head to see three of those savage creatures, their faces hairy, fangs bared, and eyes glowing steely blue. They looked up at her, snarling as she climbed higher to get away. As she had expected, they began to climb the trees themselves. She took one, big leap and managed to jump to the adjacent tree branch as the werewolves did the same, jumping from the first to the next with ease. It looked like she would be playing this game of cat and mouse for a while.

She jumped across to another tree, and then to another until the next tree was too far away for her jump again. She leaped off the branch and onto the ground, bolting for the other direction. She could still hear the feral howling of the wolves getting closer and closer. She knew she would never be able to outrun them, but she had already resigned herself to her fate long ago. But that didn't mean she couldn't keep them distracted, long enough so Crevan was far out of their minds.

As she jumped across the stream, she was left immobile when she felt a sharp pain shoot up her right leg. She looked down to see a pair of steel fangs clamped down on her bloody leg. A bear trap. How cliché.

The wolves were here and she had nowhere to go, she was trapped and hobbled and she pretty much knew she was a dead woman. She cursed them and her situation and how she hated this town and its prejudice, but in the back of her mind, she was satisfied that they hadn't gotten to her kit yet.

Crevan was still alive and they will never find him.

Melissa McCall was exhausted. Working the late shift was never fun and the pay wasn't even all that much more than what she was already getting. Plus, most of the doctors around there never really appreciated her contributions anyway. She wanted nothing more than to clock-out so she could be tired and unappreciated in the comforts of her own home where she would no doubt have to deal with a drunk Rafael passed out on the couch while she cradled her wailing toddler, Scott, until he fell asleep.

As she said her goodbyes to Carole the receptionist, she was just about to leave through the front doors when she heard the strangest sound: the whines of a child. The maternity ward was three floors up and the orphanage was just right across from it, and from what she could see, there were no patients in the waiting area.

She sighed softly to herself. "What now?"

She followed the sounds into the waiting area until she spotted a mess of fluffy, baby-blue blankets, with one having the name "CREVAN" stitched on the side, moving around under one of the seats.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Melissa muttered under her breath.

It couldn't be. No one would be that irresponsible. She half expected a big rat or a squirrel that may have just snuck in from outside and she could scream at the top of her lungs and call the exterminator in the morning. But when she lifted the blankets, she let out a shriek, not of horror but of disbelief.

"Carole!" Melissa screamed as she scooped the bundle into her arms, "Call Dr. Hilliard! Right now! And the get the sheriff on the phone!"

A scrawny, orange fox nosed around the edges of the creek, hoping to find some kind of scraps that may have been left behind by a predator. No luck. It scrounged around the bank until a faint whipping sound was heard and in seconds the fox was dead with an arrow sticking out of its side.

Two figures, dressed all in black, appeared from behind the trees, one aiming a crossbow at the bleeding fox that laid, limp, on the bank.

"Just a regular fox," said young Christopher Argent as he followed his father.

"Kill one fox, you kill 'em all," Gerard Argent mused. "They're all useless creatures."

Chris walked over to the dead animal, placing his boot over its hind and pulling the bloody arrow out of its ribs.

"Laura has informed me that the kit was missing during their chase."

Chris looked at his father, brows knitted together. "He's only a baby. He hasn't hurt anybody."

Gerard coldly narrowed his eyes. "Lion cubs are cutest when young, but when they grow up, they grow up to be vicious killers."

Chris stayed silent. The hunters went by a code: _Hunt those who hunt us_. It was their most sacred law. Gerard and Peter Hale had provided them proof that the Conners were the cause of several murders around Beacon Hills, but a child? That was crossing a line. But Gerard Argent was not the type of man to be challenged, and Chris had to bite his tongue on several occasions where he didn't feel comfortable.

"That **_thing_** needs to be eliminated before it becomes a problem."

Sighing sadly, he nodded his head and Gerard's lip curled upward into a sinister smile.

"Corral the Betas, gather up your strongest trackers," the older hunter ordered, "We're going to find the kit. We're going to find it and then we're going to kill it."


	2. Best of Friends

Five-year-old Stiles Stilinski was pretty sure that grade school was going to suck. His parents had insisted that school was an important part of a child's growing process, but Stiles had researched online that children who were homeschooled were ten times more likely to get into an Ivy League school and have a stable job by the time they were twenty-four. And there may have been a chance that Stiles made up that statistic, but the bottom line was that Stiles did not want to go to school and that was that.

Except that it wasn't. Because apparently, his mom and dad get the final say in whatever he does until he was old enough to move out of the house and Stiles would like to speak to a lawyer about this . . . as soon as he figures out what a lawyer even does.

So there, Stiles stood, waiting in line with a bunch of snotty-nosed brats, arms crossed and a grouchy pout on his face as he waited for his teacher, Mrs. Walcott, to arrive. He made sure to give all of his fellow students the ugliest scowl he could muster while thinking of ways to escape this impending doom. His parents will pay for their betrayal. But first, Stiles would have to get through snack time.

Hours later, Stiles had deduced that he definitely hated school. First, he was a lot smarter than any of the kids there. Second, he was convinced that Mrs. Walcott was some kind of evil monster who ate children in her spare time. And Stiles was a lot smarter than her, too. Third, he also hated all the other kids in his class. They were either too stupid to function or they were just plain meanie pants. And sometimes both like Jackson Whittemore, who seemed to make it his mission to make everyone's lives miserable.

At recess time, Stiles elected to sit by himself, glaring harshly at anything and anyone that crossed his line of sight. He observed the other children playing gleefully with each other as he waited for the day to end. It seemed like Jackson was staking his claim on the jungle gym as he and his band of equally-stupid goons pummeled everyone with kick balls to keep them all away. _What Neanderthals_.

Stiles absolutely hated it here. He hated Jackson Whittemore, he hated his teacher, and he hated that stupid-looking kid who was smiling and waving at him as he approached Stiles with a look on his face that signaled he wanted to play with the grouchy-looking youth. The nerve of him.

"Hi, I'm Scott," the boy said with a toothy grin. His hair was an onyx color, practically eating his head alive with how it hung around his face, and his jaw had a weird shape to it, like he had been dropped on the side of his face when he was born.

Stiles gave him an unimpressed look before flatly replying, "Good for you." _Now back to the angry staring._

Scott, however, seemed unfazed. "Wanna play hide and seek?" he asked sweetly. The way he spoke, it was like he was full of sunshine and puppies and innocent, smiling a smile that could make even melt the hearts of the grumpiest of grumps. Stiles absolutely hated this kid.

"No," Stiles replied curtly.

He had hoped the crabby look on face would be enough to drive the boy off, but Scott had just simply tilted his head and stared at him with wide, brown eyes.

"Why not?" he asked with a frown.

"'Cause," Stiles answered petulantly.

"'Cause why?"

"'Cause."

"'Cause why?"

Stiles was extremely close to being the future prime suspect of this boy's untimely murder. How was it possible that one kid be so annoying?

"'Cause I don't like you."

"What did I do?"

Stiles gave him look. "Exist."

The boy scrunched his face up in confusion. "I've never heard of that word. What does it mean?"

Stiles rolled his eyes, a trait he had picked up from his mother whenever she and his father exchanged words with each other on how to properly fix her jeep. "It means you're in my bubble and you're bugging me."

Scott giggled at him. "You're weird."

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

"Nuh uh!"

"Yeah huh!"

Stiles was fuming by now. His face had turned pink with rage as he tried his best to refrain from punching the kid. He had made a promise to his mom to keep the physical violence to a minimum and when you pinky swear, you don't go back on it.

"Don't you have other friends? he asked, clearly annoyed.

Scott pouted his lip slightly and it was the most adorable thing Stiles had ever seen, because now he resembled a puppy, even though Stiles hated puppies.

"No one wants to play with me," Scott replied, "Everyone wants to play with Jackson."

"That's because they were dropped on their heads as kids."

Scott let out a belly laugh. "You're funny."

Stiles suddenly had a feeling pride wash over him. He was a funny kid, but no one ever seemed to appreciate his immense comedic talent. Until now, it appeared.

He gave Scott another onceover. The boy appeared to be harmless enough, even if he did seem a little stupid. And Stiles was the best hider in the world, according to his mother, who was always on the verge of a nervous breakdown as she frantically went searching for her son whenever Stiles snuck into the ventilation system or hid inside one of the cupboards. A childish game of hide-and-seek didn't seem like a bad idea to indulge in.

His eyes suddenly caught sight of the boy's outfit. He was wearing a really awesome black, Batman t-shirt; the kid had good taste. Stiles was going to steal that shirt, but first, he had to gain the boy's trust.

"If I play hide-and-seek with you, will you leave me alone?"

Scott shook his head, hair flying in all directions. "Nope."

Fair enough. Stiles looked up and smiled back at the bright, happy, irregular-shaped face of the one kid in the entire school who actually came up to talk to him. He held out his hand, which Scott took, and lifted himself up, dusting the dirt off his pants.

"So, what's your name?" Scott asked.

"Everybody Stiles." Everybody was really just he and his dad. His mother still preferred to call him by his unpronounceable first name.

Scott giggled "That's a funny name."

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

After surviving his first week of school, Stiles had decided that school wasn't all that bad. At least, it wasn't all that bad when Scott McCall was there with him. After only five days of getting to know Scott, he was still the dumbest, most annoying kid Stiles had ever met . . . and he honestly couldn't imagine himself being with anyone other than him.

They only kept to themselves, however, as everyone else either didn't bother to talk to them or if someone did acknowledge them, it was usually Jackson Whittemore and his league of extraordinarily stupid followers, who would take pleasure in pushing them around. They mostly picked on Scott as he was the easier target because of his asthma. They would always laugh at him whenever he'd get short of breath after playing keep away with his inhaler. This usually ended in Stiles' coming to his defense and subsequently getting a black eye, a scraped knee, and a firm talking-to from both his parents and his teacher for fighting in school.

Other than that, their days were spent laughing like idiots, wrestling, and lots and lots of hide-and-seek.

"No, Scotty, y'can't peek!" Stiles scolded his friend during one game at recess. Somehow, even without peeking, Scott would always find Stiles.

In addition to Scott being the most amazing friend ever, Stiles also loved Scott's mom, Melissa. Melissa was uncommonly kind and practically treated Stiles like a second son, and he felt better about his decision to befriend Scott. Stiles wasn't a very trusting person in the first place. At most, he could say there were only five people in the world that he could genuinely trust: his mom and dad, Scott, Scott's mom, and the pizza delivery guy. But he just had a good feeling about Melissa.

Stiles would spend the weekends sleeping over at the McCall household, schooling Scott at Nintendo (and by "schooling", Stiles actually meant that he was getting his ass kicked by Scott because Scott is some kind of _Mario Kart_ god) and wrestling with him like stupid monkeys fighting over a banana.

Bottom line, being friends with Scott was amazing. Stiles had just felt overwhelmingly happy around him. Whenever Stiles was in a sour mood, Scott's bright, happy face and warm hugs would make everything better.

And that plan to steal Scott's Batman shirt had been long since forgotten.

Stiles was eight years old when his mom died.

He had begun to notice subtle changes in her behavior just several months prior. She had been blacking out a lot, doing things and not remembering them, and she would have horrible migraines and night terrors almost every night. She'd also start snapping at his dad for the most random of things. Stiles would sit at the table, quietly eating his Cocoa Puffs as his mom started laying it into his dad. She had always been a positive, loving person (much like Scott), so the sudden change in behavior was frightening.

There was a time that he started to believe that he was the problem. Just a year before her death, Stiles had been diagnosed with Attention/deficit/hyperactivity disorder, which just meant that he had a harder time concentrating and would act impulsively at times. This had had added a lot of stress between his parents, but he never thought he would get so bad that his mom would start acting the way she was.

"Fronto-what-what?" Scott had asked one day when he and Stiles were out playing the woods. Stiles' dad and Mrs. McCall had specifically told them that they were not allowed to go out there by themselves, because it was private property that belonged to the Hale family and they could get hurt, but Stiles was never known for obeying rules and Scott would usually follow him around like a lost puppy.

"Frontotemporal dementia," Stiles repeated to him as he poked his stick around the stream. He had learned the term when he overheard a conversation between his dad and their family doctor, Dr. Tanaka, and he researched everything he could on it. "It's, like, your brain starts to lose bits and pieces and you just become a different person."

Scott bit his lip as he picked up a few rocks and began tossing them into the pond. "She's going to be okay, right?"

Stiles wanted to say yes, he wanted to be like Scott and always think positive. But sometimes the line between positive and naïve were blurred, and Stiles knew that his mom was definitely not going to be okay. There was no cure.

He watched as his mother slowly slipped away from him, and what hurt the most was that there was nothing he could do about it. He could only stand there and watch as the woman who used to be his mommy slowly die in front of his eyes. He knew what was coming, but that didn't make the pain in his chest hurt any less.

On April 4, 2004, Claudia Stilinski lost her battle with FTD. Stiles was with her when she passed.

"Mom used to cut the crust off when she made me peanut butter and jelly sandwiches," Stiles had stated one afternoon at the McCall residence where he and Scott had just finished off a _Mario Kart_ tournament and were now lying on their backs on Scott's bed.

When his mother had passed, Stiles had shut himself in his room for an entire week. The separation was the hardest thing for them, especially for Scott, who had to deal with the bullies by himself. This had earned him the ire of his father, who believed that Scott needed to "man up" and "stop acting like a sissy". When Stiles had finally came back to school, things were suddenly ten times better, but Stiles hadn't been his usual goofy self anymore.

"Everyday for lunch, she'd make me peanut butter and jelly," Stiles continued as he stared up at the ceiling. "Dad makes it for me now, but he—he forgets to cut the crust off. He always forgets the crust."

Scott studied his friend for a bit before scooting closer until their legs were entangled together and his head was tucked under Stiles' chin so he could listen to his heartbeat. "Every time I look in my lunchbox and see the crust, I remember that she's not there anymore."

Scott laced his fingers through Stiles' and held it firmly, like he was afraid Stiles would fly away if he lets go.

Stiles shifted his body until he was the one resting his head on Scott's chest. "I don't want anymore people to leave me."

"I'd never leave you."

Stiles' lips curved into a smile before he looked up into his best friend's face. "You know, Scotty . . . you're my very best friend."

Scott smiled brightly at him. "And you're mine, too, Stiles."

Stiles looked up at his friend with wide, honey eyes. "And we'll always be friends forever, won't we?"

"Yeah, forever."

His dad let him sleep over the full weekend, even though they had school that following Monday. But it was probably for the best since John hasn't been himself lately and he didn't want his son to see him in such a drunken state. And during this rough time in Stiles' life, he needed to surround himself with a positive influence like Scott.

That Sunday night, when the moon was full and shining a beautiful, bright, white light through the window, Scott had bolted awake after experiencing a sudden migraine. Stiles stayed awake with him, watching him suffer even after taking the special medicine Melissa had provided him. Apparently, these types of headaches had been happening for a long time, but only once a month.

Nevertheless, it reminded Stiles of the times when his mother would get horrible headaches and Stiles had feared that Scott was developing the same disease that took his mother away.

After that, Stiles made it his mission to make sure Scott was always going to be okay. Whenever Jackson would walk over to pick on Scott, Stiles was going to be there to stand between them and rough up that privileged brat. (And by "rough up", Stiles meant getting his balls kicked while Jackson laughed in the background).

Even if it meant getting beaten up and subsequently being made a fool of in front of the amazing Lydia Martin, Stiles was going to protect Scott from all the bad from the world.

Stiles, unfortunately, couldn't protect Scott from his parents' divorce once they graduated from elementary school.

Stiles had loved Scott's mom with all of his heart, so much so that she was practically a second mother to him—although now, all things considering, she was his only mother figure, currently—but Stiles had decided that he hated Rafael McCall.

There was absolutely nothing redeeming about him, except for the fact that his sperm cell created the best thing to ever touch Mother Earth: the one and only Scott McCall. Other than that, Stiles wanted him to be abducted by aliens and get an anal probe. They may even be able to remove the stick that seemed to be permanently stuck up his butt.

Good riddance, though. Rafe always treated Scott like he was a moron and if anyone ever took the time to get to know Scott, they'd know that his smarts were a sensitive topic with him. It was bad enough that he'd get called "dumb" whenever he got the answer wrong in class, he didn't need to get that from his own father.

Nevertheless, Scott had been completely devastated over it, and even wanted to live with him, but Rafe had told him that things would be easier for all of them if Scott had just stayed with his mom. It was like the asshole was basically saying that he didn't want Scott in his life anymore, and that hurt Scott so much.

"I don't know w-what I d-did wr-wrong," Scott had sobbed into Stiles' shoulder.

Stiles reassured him that Scott had nothing to do with his father leaving him, and that his dad was just selfish and unappreciative of what an awesome son he had. As fucked up as it sounded, Stiles was happy that Scott's parents got a divorce because that would mean that Rafe couldn't hurt Scott anymore. And maybe once the dust settled and Scott has had time to think about it, he'll realize that things were better off without his dad and he'd finally be happy again.

Middle school was an awkward time for every kid. If elementary school was the Luigi course on _Mario Kart_ , then middle school had to be the Rainbow Road of growing up, and most kids don't make it out unscathed. Voices begin to drop, hair starts to grow in uncomfortable places, and suddenly, girls didn't have cooties anymore and everyone wanted to know who kissed who and who was dating who. Middle school was supposed to be the game changer, the chance for Scott and Stiles to come out on top and be the ones ruling the school.

But for every significant change happening in Scott and Stiles' lives, it almost seemed like nothing had changed at all. They were still the same losers that no one talked to or bothered to sit next to at lunch time, they were still the targets of Jackson's path of destruction, and they were still the best of friends.

Middle school was also the same time when the Hale family had burned to death in a fire. It was the biggest gossip around town, even in school because Cora Hale was in their grade and now she was presumed dead. Stiles had told Scott that the police were investigating a possible arson crime, but they had no possible suspects, so no one was taken in for questioning. Stiles would know since he listened in on all of his dad's phone calls, especially now since he had been elected the sheriff.

There had been only one known survivor: Peter Hale, who suffered severe burns and was left catatonic from shock. Scott remembered passing by his room a few times at the hospital. It was creepy how he just sat there and stared blankly at nothing, but his mom told him that was normal for someone in his mental state.

The upcoming winter break saw the arrivals of Laura and Derek Hale, the only known surviving relatives of the Hale family aside from Peter. Laura used to babysit most of the neighborhood children, having always been highly-favored over Derek, who sort of had a reputation of being a violent thug. The biggest rumor hovering over him was that he had something to do with Paige Krasikeva's disappearance, but since no body was ever found, Derek was cleared of all charges.

They both dropped out of school to help Peter with his healing process, but when the stress of it all became too much for her, Laura bolted for New York, leaving Derek to pick up the pieces of the broken Hale family.

During one day at the hospital, when Scott was patiently waiting for his mom to clock out from her extra shift that she had to take because Dr. Tanaka hadn't shown up to work for the entire week, he had caught sight of Derek sitting by his uncle's side, face twisted in concern. Scott looked at him with pity and, against his better judgment, jumped out of his seat to go see if he was okay.

"Hi," Scott greeted quietly as he took in the man's appearance. He was still pretty youthful-looking, but the haggard look on his face hinted that he had very little sleep. He was also very pale, made even paler by his spiky, black hair. And he was very powerful-looking, like he could crush cars with his bare hands.

Derek turned his attention to the boy and fixed him the scariest glare ever. His eyes were a bright green color and they were burning holes in Scott's little head. Scott flinched at the look, regretting all of his life choices as he prepared himself for impending death, as the older teen looked at him with fiery rage.

"Uh, uhm, are you feeling okay?" Scott asked nervously, twiddling his thumbs together as his sneakers suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the room to him.

He dared himself to look up again, hoping that Derek would grant him a quick and painless death, and was surprised when he found teen staring back at him curiously. His mouth hung open slightly as he looked at Scott like he had just been resurrected from the dead. They were locking eyes for a few seconds before they were interrupted by Scott's mom, who scolded Scott for walking off without telling her. And then, for a split second, Derek and his mom locked eyes in what almost appeared to be some kind of recognition before Melissa was ushering her son out of the room in quick haste.

Neither of them had ever noticed the glowing red eyes that followed them out the door.

About a week after the incident in Peter Hale's room, Derek had begun to make frequent appearances at Scott's house, usually busying himself with things like fixing up the roof and mowing the lawn. Scott had remembered coming home to see his mother speaking in hushed whispers with Derek in the kitchen, before they immediately stopped their conversation and Derek resumed working around the yard. Scott hadn't really given it much thought, but there was something odd about the way his mother and Derek were behaving, and he just couldn't put his finger on it. Regardless of that, however, Scott decided it was best to just move on with his life.

Middle school finally came to a close as all the graduating eight grade kids began a new chapter in their lives: high school.

Everything in high school was a much a bigger deal. Classes were a lot tougher, and Scott wanted to cry at the thought of taking algebra. Lydia Martin was even more stunning than she was in middle school, and she was still unaware that Stiles even existed. One time, she'd even called him Mark when asking if he was done with the water fountain. And suddenly, all the guys in their grade were obsessing over sports, talking about lacrosse like it could cure cancer, and, of course, after learning that Lydia would be attending all the games, Stiles practically dragged Scott to try-outs so they could make their mark on life, although Scott had secretly wanted to try out for lacrosse anyway.

Stiles had decided that high school was going to be the real game changer, an even bigger one than the one middle school was supposed to be. Stiles was going to be captain of the lacrosse team, Lydia Martin was going to be on his arm and be the love of his life, and he was going to be the most popular guy in school with his good, old friend Scott McCall right there by his side. This was his year . . .

Except that it wasn't. In fact, the only thing freshman year had brought him was the bench seat at all the lacrosse games and still no Lydia by his side. The only person that was by his side was Scott, who also shared the benchwarming duties with him. Their coach, Finstock, had practically bust a gut at the thought of letting an asthmatic on his team, but he occasionally allowed Scott to be on goal so the other players can, in Finstock's words, "have a self-esteem boost". Stiles cringed as he watched his friend get pummeled with lacrosse balls, earning a resounding amount of laughter from everyone on the team and the crowd on the bleachers.

And sure enough, Jackson Whittemore was named the captain of the lacrosse team and Stiles wanted to kill himself.

Freshman year, for the most part, sucked ass. They still only sat with each other at the lunchroom with the only people within radius of them being Isaac Lahey, who always looked like he was afraid of his own shadow; Erica Reyes, who had been prone to seizures at any given time, and Vernon Boyd, who just preferred to not talk to anyone at all. So, no friends for Scott and Stiles. And still no girlfriends. That dream to make Lydia his one true love was still a distant memory.

"Maybe, I should just quit high school," Stiles grumbled at lunch, "Join a band, get a face tattoo, and then lose my virginity to a prositute whose name is Cookie."

Scott snorted and resumed eating his turkey surprise as they both began running through names for their band.

Freshman year was the year Scott began to notice how different he was. Sometimes he began to wonder why he wasn't as obsessed with girls as Stiles was, and in the back of his mind, he always knew.

There had been one incident during the summer before their first day of high school where Scott and Stiles were getting some summer reading done (and by "summer reading", they were actually playing video games), when Stiles had accused Scott of cheating. All Scott did was use a Blue Shell on him during a really competitive round of _Mario Kart_ , but that didn't stop Stiles from tackling him into the ground and rolling over the floor, trying to pin him down. Stiles had finally managed to get Scott under him, roaring triumphantly at his victory over Scott McCall. They laughed like idiots, because they could never stay mad at each other. They loved each other and something as silly as a Blue Shell could never come between them.

Their laughter had finally subsided and they just sat there, legs intertwined as they stared deeply into each other's eyes. Suddenly, Scott was aware that he was getting hard and his heart began to race because he was afraid that Stiles would be grossed out. Boners happened all the time between them, but there was something about the way they were positioned that was having an effect on Scott. Stiles' eyebrows suddenly crinkled together when he realized what was going on. Abruptly, he shifted slightly, brushing his lower stomach against Scott's hard dick, causing his friend to gasp.

After that it was like they were on auto-pilot. Neither had much control of their bodies. Their minds were in another place as Stiles began to grind his hips into Scott, making the boy mewl in pleasure, and Stiles was becoming aware of how hard he was getting. He was actually getting turned on by his best friend . . . a **_boy_** _!_ Stiles liked girls, he loved fantasizing about them, thinking about kissing them and touching them—Lydia Martin was the frequent star of his wet dreams—but none of that seemed to matter with Scott under him, moaning the way he was. Hearing the sounds Scott made whenever Stiles brushed their clothed dicks against one another had made Stiles want to continue this little action until Scott was practically flailing and screaming out as he came.

When he came, it was the hottest thing Stiles had ever seen. Scott's eyes were shut tight and his mouth hung open in an O-shape, and Stiles was coming soon after. What was actually seconds had felt like hours, and the two best friends came down from their post-coital haze and back to reality where they began to notice the evidence of their little tryst on the front of their jeans.

Luckily, Stiles would always borrow Scott's clothes, so stealing a pair of jeans was practically insignificant. They didn't talk about what had happened, just gave each other a nod and a small smile before resuming their game. But all Scott could think about from then on was Stiles and their first sexual experience.

Scott didn't bother with any of the girls in their class. In fact, most of the time, he found himself staring at the guys in the locker room. Suddenly, Scott's masturbation sessions were filled with thoughts of Stiles, Danny Mahealani, George Clooney, Mr. Stilinski (he will take this to the grave and never tell Stiles, ever), and even Derek Hale. And why wouldn't he? Derek practically walked around his yard shirtless all the time. And Mr. Stilinski was a man of the law. That was pretty hot. And Danny had dimples for decades. It was that same year when Scott had decided that he was gay, and the first person he would tell was Stiles.

Because they were bros, ride or die, Stiles accepted him when Scott finally worked up the nerve to come out to him.

"I just wanna let you know," Stiles had said smugly, "I am deeply flattered, because I made you gay."

Scott rolled his eyes, but let out a laugh. "You did not make me gay."

"I totally did. I made you gay." He began to rub a hand up and down his body, declaring, "You want all this good stuff."

Scott whacked him in the arm, but he couldn't defeat the smile on his lips because he was relieved that the person who mattered most to him still loved him for who he was.

Knowing that Scott was gay made Stiles reevaluate a few things in his life. Stiles was pretty sure that he still liked girls, and he definitely didn't really give a damn about the male anatomy. But for some reason, he found himself feeling weirdly jealous whenever one of the lacrosse guys would take the time to get their heads out of their asses and start treating Scott like a human being. Stiles knew he should just be happy that Scott was being spared the humiliation and ire of his teammates, but Stiles began feeling more and more irritated watching Scott smile shyly when he and Danny were talking about their upcoming game against Devonford Prep.

Everyone knew Danny was gay and knowing that Scott was gay, too, made things complicated. It was complicated because there was a chance that Scott could find a connection with Danny, and Stiles didn't want Scott to make connections with people other than him. That sounded incredibly selfish, but Stiles didn't care one bit if it did.

Suddenly, Stiles began to realize that he wasn't feeling this way because he was afraid Scott would make new friends. He was attracted to Scott . . . in an actual **_sexual_** way. Stiles thought back to that time when they had both gotten off together. It was nice and Stiles had used it a few times during his chicken-choking sessions, but he never thought it would result in this. They were supposed to be bro-migos.

Stiles reaffirmed that he liked girls and not guys, so maybe he was heterosexual plus **Scott-sexual**. Scott-sexual sounded like a real thing, because, honestly, if people got to know how amazing Scott was, they'd be Scott-sexual too.

"Scott," Stiles said tentatively. This time, they were at his house, watching Batman movies in their underwear with lots and lots of junk food strewn across the floor (his dad wasn't allowed to have any of it, because Stiles was worried to death about his cholesterol).

Scott blinked up at him. "Yeah?"

"I don't want you getting with other guys," he said with a shaky breath. Scott had tilted his head, that confused puppy look making its return. "I want you to be with me."

Scott swallowed thickly. "Y-yeah? Like—Like . . . ?"

"I want you to be my boyfriend," Stiles stated seriously. He could feel his hands shivering like crazy and looking down at Scott's hands, which were balled into tight fists over his boxer shorts, he could see that Scott was shaking too.

Stiles took a big, dramatic gulp. "You want to?"

Scott's breathing became ragged, so much so that Stiles wondered if he was having an asthma attack. Scott licked his dry lips and nodded his head fervently. "Okay. Yes, yes. Definitely."

Again, it felt like the auto-pilot switch had been turned on because Stiles surged forward to bring their lips together in a searing kiss, sloppy and wet and inexperienced. It was them and no one else, nothing mattered except their love for each other. It was their silent promise, to always be together, whether as lovers or as friends. Nothing would separate them.

It was beginning to bother Scott that Derek Hale was roaming around the McCall residence a lot more often than what was probably considered normal. As polite as Scott was, he began to suspect that the older man had ulterior motives to being around so much. Ever since they met each other in Peter Hale's room four years ago, Derek was lingering around like some kind of stalker. Plus, there was also Derek's reputation around Beacon Hills. Rumors of him being in a gang and causing all kinds of problems for the police force had followed him all his life.

It made Scott nervous having him around and he looked to his mother for support, but she seemed to have some kind of weird attachment to Derek, assuring Scott that he was harmless. She always had a better judge of character than Scott, who was usually the one who saw the best in people. If someone like Scott had his suspicions about Derek, surely his mother would, too, but apparently not. If anything, she treated him like he was a member of the family.

As Stiles turned fifteen, he began to take driving lessons from his dad, which mean that in a year's time, they'd be driving around, looking cool, and being awesome.

Until then, Stiles and Scott were stuck carpooling with their parents. Stiles usually came to school in his dad's police car while Scott's mom either drove him to school when it was convenient for her or she'd make him take the bus. Lately, however, she'd begun letting Derek take him to school, which was really creepy to Scott.

Derek was a man of few words and a lot of intimidation. He was a scary-looking dude, though Scott had to admit that it added to his "charm". The drives to school were usually quiet, but that was mostly because Derek was a poor conversationalist and the most he's ever said to Scott during their one-sided conversations was a grunt of thinly-veiled annoyance or a roll of his eyes so strong, it could power electricity.

Despite his brooding silence and overall rudeness, Derek did have his moments where he seemed to show some kind of brotherly affection for Scott. He was the one who taught him how to drive, after all. And by "taught", he actually put Scott behind the wheel and then threatened to rip his throat out if he got even a scratch on his Camaro. And Derek was the one who "spoke" to Jackson Whittemore about his constant bullying of Scott. When Scott saw him the next day, the lacrosse captain had looked like he had seen a ghost and ran in the other direction.

Slowly, Scott began to appreciate having Derek around, but he still didn't trust him at all.

Sophomore year rolled around, and Stiles and Scott were finally able to drive, much to the horror of their parents. Stiles' dad let his son take Claudia's old jeep, which meant everything to Stiles because it was practically the last thing he had that linked him to his mother. And because of this, it meant that Scott and Stiles were now able to carpool together. Derek definitely did not seemed pleased by the idea, but that could just be because he always looked displeased.

Sophomore year, like freshman year and really the years before that, held the same trials and struggles for the dynamic duo. They still sat by themselves, they were still the benchwarmers of the lacrosse team, and they were still the unpopular dorks that everyone laughed at and picked on. But they had each other, and that was what made things okay.

About a month into the new school year, Derek had disappeared for a little while. He didn't call or come visit like he usually did. That same week, Jackson Whittemore didn't show up for school. It may not have seemed odd to some people, but Jackson was usually Mr. Perfect Attendance, so him not showing up at school was quite strange to Stiles. Scott simply told him to just enjoy the lack of _Asshole de Whittemore_ while it lasted, so Stiles didn't give it any more thought and resumed making out with Scott under the bleachers during lunchtime.

Sure enough, Jackson returned to school the following Monday, but he seemed different. He was still the cocky asshole who walked around with an air of superiority, but this time he seemed more muscular and a lot more hot-tempered. He broke things off with Lydia Martin and began to show more aggression in lacrosse, injuring several players.

"Man, he's even worse now!" Stiles complained as he picked at his cafeteria food, trying to decide if it was chicken surprise or some kind of roadkill. "I'm glad coach isn't letting us play because he'd probably try to crush your ribs."

"He's not that cruel," Scott scoffed.

"Dude, he's probably planning your death right now. He hates you. And me."

Speaking of the jerk, he walked right by their table and waved at Scott, saying, "'Sup, Scott?"

Scott's eyebrows rose in shock. "Uhm, 'sup?"

Stiles looked like he had a stroke as he replayed the scene in his head over and over to see if he had missed something. Since when did Jackson ever refer to Scott by anything other than "McCall" or "Asswipe"? And since when did he ever say "hi" to him without following it up with a fist flying into Scott's face?

Stiles had suggested that aliens were taking over Jackson's brain and it would only be a matter of time before it happened to them.

Scott rolled his eyes at him and resumed eating his lunch.

Isaac Lahey had missed some school a few months later. No one ever really noticed the kid, but for those who did, he was the guy who would cower in the corner and flinch anytime someone went near him. Scott had said "hey" to the guy a few times, but for the most part, Isaac kept to himself. He sometimes ate in the boy's bathroom and always took the seat in the back row where people wouldn't see or bother him. Even the teachers barely noticed him. He didn't show up all week, like Jackson. And just like Jackson, he came back the following Monday a changed man.

No longer was he the shy, terrified loner who looked like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Now, he seemed to have adopted Jackson's personality. Even worse, he seemed to have made friends with Jackson and the two walked around like they owned the place, terrorizing everyone around them and proving their superiority as the big men on campus. That was when Stiles had noticed the matching tattoos.

One Tuesday afternoon, Isaac had worn a white V-neck shirt so deep, it was practically obscene, and peeking through was a black triple spiral tattoo etched on his collarbone. He had remembered seeing a similar tattoo in the locker room after lacrosse practice on Jackson, right after the bullying jock had just got done sending another player to the nurse's office; Stiles was able to catch a glimpse of him shirtless, enough to see that he had the same spiral tattoo over his left pectoral muscle. There was no place in Beacon Hills where you could get a tattoo if you were under eighteen without parental consent. Jackson generally did whatever he wanted with or without his parents' consent, but judging by how uptight Isaac's dad was, Stiles seriously doubted that Isaac would ever be allowed to get one.

Maybe Stiles was being paranoid, but it bugged him out at how unusually polite they were being to Scott as opposed to the aggressive way they treated everyone else. It wasn't jealousy, because Stiles had no reason to be jealous. Scott was his and that was that. But it bugged him in the sense that there was something eerie going on and he wanted to know what. Scott had told him to just let it go, but he knew damn well that Stiles doesn't let things go.

Stiles was definitely not paranoid and he wasn't going to let this go.

It was the first week of the spring semester. A pair of identical twins, both beautiful and intimidating in appearance, had transferred to Beacon Hills High, and just like Isaac, they instantly clung to Jackson's side like the little followers they were always meant to be. And Stiles definitely did not miss the familiar, matching spiral tattoos that were on each twin's bicep—one twin having it on the left side and the other having it the right.

It was beginning to look like Jackson was forming his own gang, and something about it worried Stiles. All throughout the school year, it almost seemed like they had been watching Scott wherever he went in addition to the friendly greetings. And Scott, being the oblivious, adorable idiot that he was, never even noticed.

Scott could barely listen to his crazy theories because of a nasty migraine he had been having that week. But Stiles was going to get to the bottom of this.

"I'm telling you, Scotty," Stiles said before bravely stuffing his face with the turkey loaf special, "Dur up ter sumfing."


	3. Lack of Education

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter. The final three will be posted tomorrow.
> 
> Sorry if this kind of got a little Twilight-y. I just liked their depictions of pack dynamics better. Plus, I liked that they were actual wolves and not, as quoted, "vampires with really ugly sideburns."

_Scott was running through the woods so fast, everything seemed like a blur. His vision was magnified and everything was red; all he could see was red. Howls filled the night air and the faint sounds of a woman screaming were filling his head. And the more he heard the screams, the thirstier he became for the coppery taste of blood under his tongue._

Several raps on his door had pulled him back to reality and he was suddenly bolting upwards, sweaty and breathing quickly. His mom was at the other end, yelling for him to wake up and get ready for school. He wasn't sure what that dream meant, but it made his skin crawl.

Lydia's parties have always been the most-anticipated events in Beacon Hills since the second grade. Except things have evolved from bouncy houses and clowns doing magic tricks. Nowadays, it was all about irresponsible underage drinking and horny teenagers rutting up against one another with some no-face they would regret sleeping with in the morning to the beat of ear-splitting dance music.

"Seems like a lost cause," Scott said, shaking his head as he tried to finish up the summer reading that he was supposed to have had done already.

They sat by themselves in the lunchroom, yet again, with their homework spread around the table, carefully placed between their trays and away from any food or drinks that could potentially damage their hard work.

" _Au contraire_ , my Latin lover," Stiles said cheekily, "I just got word that we were invited."

Scott looked at him disbelievingly. "I'm totally legit!" Stiles stated, "Lydia invited me, personally . . . through her best friend."

Scott quirked a brow. "Allison Argent invited you to Lydia's party."

The other boy's face fell and he let out a nervous laugh. "Well, no. I mean, I overheard a conversation she was having with Jackson about telling the **_entire_** lacrosse team they were invited. Last I checked, we were on the lacrosse team!"

"As the benchwarmers."

"You know, Scotty," Stiles began with a pout, "If I didn't love sucking your dick so much, I wouldn't be dealing with this negativity!"

Scott snorted. "Okay, first of all, you've never done that for me. I'm always the one doing that for you—"

Stiles just shrugged. "That's all semantics."

"—Two, you're a terrible boyfriend for that by the way. Three, just because Allison invited the lacrosse team doesn't mean **_we're_** invited." He sat back, slightly dejected, as he flipped through a few pages, hoping to skim through to the climax of the book. "Jackson would never allow it."

"Yeah, that's 'cause Jackson's an ego-centric psychopath, whose probably compensating that penis car of his because he's got a tiny—"

Stiles was cut off when he felt a strong forearm wrap around his throat. It was so thick and muscular, he felt like he was being choked to death with a dumbbell. Speaking of which, Jackson and his crew of roided up dickheads had arrived to their table, looking particularly mean and violent today.

"Hey, Jackson," said Isaac Lahey, tightening his grip on Stiles, who was flailing his arms overdramatically and gasping for air. "I think Stilinski has something interesting to say about you."

Jackson appeared from behind Scott and pulled up a chair right next to him. He began sizing Stiles up, his face barely hiding his disgust as he flashed his trademark smirk. "Like I give a fuck what that little geek thinks."

He tilted his head to Scott, still sporting that shit-eating grin. "Hey, McCall," he greeted with an evil gleam in his eyes. "How have you been?"

Scott just sat there and glared at all of them. Isaac had released his hold on Stiles, who was now breathing in ragged gasps, clutching a palm to his neck. "Psycho," the boy muttered under his breath. Isaac barely even responded. He just wrapped an arm around Stiles' shoulder and pulled him close like they were old pals.

Scott turned his head to Jackson and asked in a short tone, "What do you want?"

"I heard you guys were going to Lydia's party on Saturday."

"What's it to you, dickbag?" Stiles interrupted.

Jackson sneered at him, before looking at Isaac and demanding, "Keep that little cum stain quiet."

Isaac lifted a hand to Stiles' chin and grabbed it roughly in some attempt to keep his jaw from opening. From the pained whimper Stiles let out, it seemed like it was working.

Jackson put his arm around Scott in the same way Isaac had done. "A few of us guys were going to skip out on the party and go out for a night on the town. You're going with us."

Scott looked at him, untrusting. There was no way Jackson Whittemore would invite him to go "hang with the guys" as if they were even close to being called friends. There was something about him that he didn't trust. He ducked away from the jock, not looking directly at him as Isaac kept manhandling Stiles.

Scott shrugged Jackson off, retorting, "As if. We already made plans, so leave us alone."

Jackson latched onto his arm, gripping it so tight that Scott felt like he might snap it in two. Jackson was glaring harshly at him, the air coming out of his nose like he was some bull ready to charge.

"Dude," Isaac said warningly, "Dude!"

Jackson snapped out of his thoughts and looked over at Isaac, who was jerking his head to his right. Jackson looked over to where he was motioning at before standing up and sending a look Scott's way. "We'll see you again."

The twins quickly followed him as Isaac released his hold on Stiles and walked away as well.

"Dude," Stiles exclaimed, exasperated, "Those guys are total roid heads!"

Scott swallowed thickly and just continued his homework.

"Did you catch at what they were looking at?" Stiles asked suddenly. "Or **_who_**."

He looked up at him, eyebrows creased before Stiles continued, "That Derek guy was standing outside. He was watching us the whole time."

Scott awoke to a soft knock on his door. It was a wet Saturday, the day of the party, and he had been planning on heading over to Stiles' place at around six to get changed and maybe fool around a little bit, hoping that he could finally be on the receiving end of a blow job for once. But for now, all he wanted to do was just sleep in and ignore his daily morning routine. His mother's head peered in and she smiled warmly at him.

"Hi, hon, I was—uhm—I was wondering if you could come down for a bit." She seemed serious but calm, though there was a hint of stress in her voice.

Scott crinkled his eyebrows together. "'Bout what?"

"It's important. Get dressed. We have company."

Company? They don't normally entertain visitors. Shrugging his shoulders he got out of bed and pulled on some pants and a shirt before trudging down the stairs. As he followed her down the stairs, his eyes trailed to the figure standing in the living room. He recognized the broody face, bushy brows, and spiky hair. Derek was back and now Scott was more confused than ever.

"What's this about?"

Derek cleared his throat, exchanging a look with Melissa as he motioned for Scott to take a seat on the couch. Scott was beginning to feel uneasy, not really trusting what the man wanted or why he was there in the first place. Nevertheless, Scott took a seat in the middle and waited patiently for Derek to explain.

An hour later, Scott's an entire world was titled on its axis. Melissa sat next to him, clutching his hand into hers as Derek explained everything. He started off with some story about a guy named Lycaon and his fifty sons, about how he had challenged Zeus by feeding him the bodies of his servants and was then punished for his sins, where he it was said that he and his sons were cursed to become wolf men. As it turned out, Derek was a descendant of Lycaon and so was Scott.

 _I'm a werewolf_ , Scott repeated in his head. "That's impossible."

He shook his head because _fuck no_. Scott didn't want to believe any of this. It was so incredibly absurd. Derek belonged in Eichen House and Scott needed to get the hell away from this lunatic. He looked to his mother for support, but all she did was look away, unable to cope with the situation, and Scott began to wonder if they both flew over the cuckoo's nest.

"I don't believe you," Scott said shakily, getting off the couch. "You're crazy, dude. I'm outta here."

"Scott, honey, wait!" Melissa pleaded, but Scott was practically out the door before he twist at a sudden pain on his back.

He felt hot all over his body—he had been feeling hot all day, but just ruled it off as just a simple bug—and now he could feel his flesh melting off his body. He was sweating profusely as the hot pain began twist his insides out. Unable to bear the heat, he threw his shirt off his back and tried to steady his breathing.

"Scott . . ." Melissa gasped.

Derek was rushed over to his side. "Scott, you need to come with me. Your shift is starting. It's a lot sooner than I expected. Please, try to calm down."

"My—my what?" Scott yelled, because he just felt like yelling at everything. He felt irrationally angry at a lot of things. At Derek, at his mother, at his father, at his coach. Just thinking about anything was making him want to tear everything apart. A sharp pain ripped through him as he felt like his teeth were being pulled and his fingernails were being ripped off. He angrily roared in pain, only his screams did not sound human at all . . . they sounded monstrous.

With all the strength he had, he opened the front door and bolted out of the house, faster than he could ever expect. Scott's mom and Derek were calling after him, but soon their voices were distant as Scott reached the preserve. The entire town was surrounded by trees, so it wasn't hard to get their in so little time. And considering how everything was blurring past him like he was going at mach speed, he was probably half way to San Francisco by then.

He stopped suddenly as entered a small clearing, finding himself surrounded by trees and cool air. He could feel his body beginning to bend in odd shapes, hearing his bones snap as his skin burned hotter than the sun. He looked down to see his hands were no longer his hands, but of something hairier and more animal-like. Claws had sprouted out from what looked like a wolf's toes as his body began to force him on all fours and soon he was no longer in control of himself. There were flecks of denim scattered all over and he realized that his pants had been completely shredded.

He was beyond terrified. He didn't know what was going on. All he knew was that he was running through the woods on all fours like he was some kind of animal, and his sanity was slowly slipping away from him. Memories of the dream he had began flooding back into his mind. The moon was shining down on him like a spotlight for the world to see the abomination he has become. His vision was gray—completely gray—like life had suddenly turned into a black-and-white movie, but instead of a _Casablanca_ -esque love story, it was a nightmare-ish horror film.

Suddenly, he could hear howls coming from the trees and he stilled himself. In addition his graying vision, everything seemed magnified and he could smell everything around him. He could smell the muddy leaves on the ground, the thick heavy scent of bark, and he wasn't sure, but he thought he smelled animal shit somewhere and wanted to gag. The howls were beginning to surround him, like he was some kind of prey about to be killed by a pack of wolves . . . but there weren't any wolves in California, right?

And then, he could hear snickering in his ears, as if someone was laughing right behind him. He jerked his head, but no one was there. Voices began to overlap within the trees and Scott began to wonder if he had lost his mind as well.

" _Aww, poor little Scott,_ " came a mocking voice that sounded very familiar. " _I told the loser to come with us tonight._ "

" _Welcome to the pack, McCall_ ," came another voice.

" _He looks so terrified, doesn't he Ethan?_ " said a third voice.

" _He does, Aiden_ ," Ethan replied.

" _I can't believe I have to share a pack with this loser_." It was the first voice again and Scott definitely recognized it as Jackson's voice.

" _I said the same thing about you, to be perfectly honest_." It was Isaac Lahey, who earned a nasty snarl from Jackson as the four figures surrounded him like they were predators waiting to eat him. The scary thing was, they were not in the shape of men, but in the shape four large wolves.

" _Wanna beat him up? Like a pack initiation?_ " Aiden suggested, chuckling darkly.

" _I'm game_ " Jackson agreed, all too cheery about the idea.

" _No, you will not,_ " Derek's commanding voice suddenly came. He appeared from behind a thick tree trunk as he entered the circle of wolves and joined Scott in the middle. All of the wolves seemed to back away slightly in response, baring their necks at the man, whose face looked demonic once again. " _None of you will hurt him. Understand?_ "

They all grumbled their replies. Scott was still breathing hard, afraid he would have an asthma attack. Do werewolves even have asthma attacks? Derek came around placed a hand over his furry back in some show of comfort. If it were any other time, Scott would have found this creepy, but he began to feel more and more relaxed by the action. He could feel his heavy breathing subsiding and his body, while still hot (and still furry), was beginning to feel cool against the windy breeze.

"It's gonna be alright," Derek whispered calmly, "You're gonna be alright. I'm here for you. I'll always be here."

Scott felt like he was going to pass out or throw up. Or throw up and pass out. Either way, he was going to be sick and it wasn't going to be pretty. He couldn't even find the words to string together a sentence and he wasn't even sure he could say anything as a **_fucking wolf_**. Derek seemed to sense his discomfort and ordered the four teens to run off to the loft, wherever that was, stating that he would take care of Scott.

"Scott, you're gonna have to trust me on this," Derek said urgently as he took a hold of Scott's front paw, "I'm really, really sorry for what I'm going to do, but it's going to stop your shift."

Scott began to roar out in pain as Derek twisted his front leg into an odd angle. He couldn't pull away since Derek's grip was supernaturally clamped on to his, and he could definitely hear a bone snap. The pain was unbearable and in almost immediate reaction, his bod began to run cold and the fur had disappeared as fast as it came out of him. He could feel himself going cross-eyed as the wold began to spin at an alarming rate and before he could even register anything else, his vision suddenly went black and he was out like a light.

If there was one thing you shouldn't do, you shouldn't leave Stiles Stilinski impatient and horny. Stiles was a flailing hurricane of arousal and hyperactivity, that kind of neglect could cause natural disasters. Scott was supposed to be at his house four hours ago so they could get ready for the party, but he hadn't shown up and his penis was becoming sad because Stiles had hoped he'd at least get a blowjie before going over to Lydia's.

He had text him at least ten times since then. Five times because he wanted to know where he was and when he was coming over, twice to tell Scott about how hard his dick was and how it was aching for some "McCall's amazing, high speed DSLs", and three more times because he wanted to know if Scott had his favorite Batman t-shirt. (It was actually Scott's Batman shirt, but Stiles was his boyfriend and he got boyfriend rights like borrowing clothes and never returning them.)

He pulled the phone off the desk and began texting him again.

[ **To Scotty McHottie:** ] _call me bck. answr yo phone! ! !_

Another thirty minutes passed before Stiles had begun to really get worried. If Scott was late, he would've called by now. He started running ideas in his head on why he was late. Perhaps his mother had found out about their erotic activities and while supportive of their relationship, she decided to ground him for giving a blow job without her permission. But then his mind began to wander to Scott possibly having a car accident and was now lying in a vegetative state at the hospital. Or what if aliens came and decided that Scott was perfection personified (which he was) and abducted him so they could make clones and have an army of perfect human beings to take over the universe with!

Very plausible, but he may just want to call Melissa first, to see if things were okay. He dialed her number and waited before she picked up on the second ring.

"Stiles? What's the matter? Are you okay?" She sounded frantic.

"Uhm, yeah?" Stiles replied back awkwardly.

"Is, uhm, I mean . . ." She was fumbling her words a bit. "Are you sure you're okay? You're not hurt or anything?"

  
Stiles furrowed his brows. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"No reason," Melissa replied quickly, "So, what can I do for you?"

She seemed way too eager to change the subject, but he decided that he had better things to worry about. "Yeah, uhm, Mrs. McCall, I was wondering if Scott was okay. He was supposed to come over a while ago for the party and he hasn't shown and he usually sends a text."

"Oh, yeah, you know Scott hasn't been feeling all that great lately. He was burning up from a fever, so I had to put him to bed."

Stiles looked disappointed. "Oh . . . okay. I just figured he would've called."

"Yeah, no, he's fine! He's just really, really sick. You know how bad a flu could be."

Stiles pursed his lips. "I thought you said it was a fever?"

There was a pause. "Y-yeah, a fever and a flu. Bad, bad combination. Okay, well, I have to go now, Stiles. Hope to see you later. Bye!"

The line went dead and Stiles Stilinski was not convinced one bit.

Scott awoke that Sunday morning. His body was wrapped in warmth and he felt a lot better than he did the previous night. _It was all a dream_ , he thought hopefully, but that hope was crushed when he began to realize that the warmth he was feeling was from a strong arm being wrapped protectively around his waist.

"Derek!" Scott yelped as he pulled the covers over his naked torso. And he was suddenly aware that he was not only shirtless, but he was in just his boxers. Ideas began to swim inside his mind. Did he have sex with Derek? Did Derek force him? Did he cheat on Stiles? He suddenly felt sick at all the possibilities.

Derek was rubbing the sleep from his eyes, scrubbing a hand over his stubbled face. He was shirtless, and as wondrous a sight as his body was, Scott couldn't help but feel a little violated.

"You feeling okay?" the man said sleepily.

"What are you doing in my bed?" Scott yelled, still wrapping the covers around him. "Did we . . . _oh god!_ Tell me we didn't . . . Did we?"

Derek raised an eyebrow. "No."

"Then what are you doing here?" Scott yelled.

"I was watching you sleep," Derek answered casually, "Making sure you didn't hurt anyone."

Scott bristled. "How long have you been watching me?"

"All night." He shrugged, looking incredibly nonchalant and seeing nothing odd about his behavior. Because it was so normal for people in their twenties to watch sixteen-year-olds in their sleep and then proceed to fall asleep with them, **shirtless** and in their underwear.

Scott pulled the covers off him and began searching for one of his shirts amongst the mess of clothing all over the floor. Pulling on one that stank the least, he angrily glared at the man and snarled, "What the hell is going on?"

"I already told you last night," Derek said matter-of-factly before hopping off the bed and fishing his shirt from where he had thrown it. "Come on, your mom made breakfast. You're gonna be starving."

As soon as Derek mentioned it, his stomach began growling angrily at him, begging for him to feed it, and breakfast suddenly sounded like the greatest idea in the world. He fished out a pair of basketball shorts and slipped them on before trudging down the stairs after the man.

Derek was already seated in the dining area where Scott's mother had begun already serving him a big pile of scrambled eggs, long strips of bacon, big scoops of potatoes, some slabs of ham and a helluva lot of cholesterol. The man then proceeded to stuff his face as if he had left all of his table manners in his padded room.

"Mom?" Scott addressed, looking completely confused, "Since when do you cook?"

Melissa looked over at him, clearly offended. "I'm a great cook!"

"Is that why I'm always eating Pop-Tarts in the morning."

His mother huffed. "Keep talking like that, and all you'll be eating is air."

Not needing to be told twice, he planted his butt on the table and allowed his mother to shovel a plate of food for him that was enough to feed a king and then give him a heart attack. He and Derek mostly ate in silence, and it was beginning to feel like the old days when Derek didn't talk and just brood. He had a million questions in his head, for Derek and for his mom and probably God for condemning him to this situation, but he was too hungry at the moment to really string together the words.

After he had gotten done scarfing down a large scoop of food down his throat, he turned his head to his mother, eyes burning with curiosity.

"Mom, are you a werewolf, too?" he asked, incredibly serious. "And what about dad? Is he . . . ?"

Derek snorted, but said nothing and continued eating. His mom just blinked at him. "No. We're both plain, old humans. You see, sometimes the werewolf gene skips a few generations. You're a werewolf through my bloodline. There's a pack in Tucson that's filled with our relatives."

Derek was nodding his head. "The Delgado pack used to be really close with my family before the fire."

Scott sighed sadly. This felt all too surreal. He began thinking about all of his cousins and even the people he knew at school and how many of them were werewolves. If werewolves were real, were vampires real, too? And if vampires were real, did they sparkle in the sunlight? He wasn't even sure if he wanted to believe what had happened last night. He kept praying that it was all a dream and Scott was just running a fever and Derek was still just a creeper. But alas, the contemplating look on Derek's face plus the strange behavior of his mother told him that his life was not going to be the same anymore. He wasn't even sure how he would explain this to Stiles.

Scott's eyes widened and he abruptly stood up. "Where's my phone."

Derek got up as well. "It's upstairs, but you can't tell your friend anything."

"Why not?"

"Because this is something that you have to keep secret, Scott. You can't just go around telling people you're a werewolf. How do you think that's going to go over with people who don't understand us? You will **_not_** tell anyone."

Scott remained silent. It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order and Scott did not like to be bossed around in such a way. Except now, the thought of telling Stiles was suddenly lifted from his mind. He felt like he didn't want to tell Stiles anymore about anything that had transpired the night before. Not even the fact that he woke up with Derek in his bed. It was odd.

"What just happened?" Scott asked, running his hand through his shaggy head. "How did you do that?"

"Betas obey their Alpha. You always obey your Alpha."

Scott growled. "Obey? Are you serious? This is insane! I don't want to do this!"

Derek sighed. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely, "I don't want to pressure you into anything, but I do have to be straight with you. This isn't something that can just go away. It's a part of who you are. There's no going back. And you're gonna need me to help you through it."

Scott took off for his room. He didn't want to deal with this right now. He just wanted to talk to Stiles and confide in him about everything, except he couldn't because apparently Derek put some mind control spell on him and it was preventing him from even dialing his number and the thought just made him even more angrier than he was last night. He squeezed his hand, hearing his phone's touch screen break easily under his touch, and he looked down to see the spider web-shaped cracks that had formed all over the glass. His eyes were glowing an unnatural gold color, causing him to yell out in surprise and toss his phone away like it was on fire.

"What is happening? Why is this happening?" he whispered to himself.

"Scott, it's okay. I know you're confused and scared right now, but everything is going to be fine."

He looked up to see Derek entering his room, completely ignorant of personal space as he rolled his desk chair to take a seat next to him. He didn't feel anymore comfortable, just more and more upset as reality set in.

"I know it's overwhelming, but you can trust me," Derek assured him. "I would never hurt you."

Scott looked up at him, eyes going watery, but unbeknownst to him, they were now back to their normal, brown shade.

"You mean the world to me, Scott."

Scott furrowed his brows. "I do?"

Derek nodded. They stared in each other's eyes for what seemed like forever and Scott could feel himself being pulled toward Derek. This must be what Derek was talking about. Maybe this was him acknowledging Derek as his Alpha or whatever it was called. Scott could feel himself relaxing in Derek's presence and trust, however tentative, was starting to form.

Their silence was broken when they heard Scott's bedroom window open up as a mess of limbs flopped down over the bed. Scott's nose immediately flared at the familiar smell of cheap cologne, rainwater and the spicy aroma of hyperactivity. It was Stiles' smell, and Scott had missed it. He didn't say anything to him. He just gathered him in a bone-crushing hug (with his newfound supernatural strength, that might have actually been possible) and began to inhale his scent.

"Dude, why are you smelling me?" Stiles chuckled before spotting Derek over his shoulder. "What's he doing here?"

With the way Derek was glaring at Stiles, if looks could kill, then Stiles would be mangled, torn, and bloodied. There was nothing but pure anger coming from the older man and Scott was able to smell the bitter stench of hatred as he watched Derek tense up in Stiles' presence.

"Get. Him. Out." Derek bit out under his breath, his shaking fists turning white. It was definitely a command because Scott was rushing Stiles out of the room without even realizing he what he was doing.

As soon as the door was closed, Stiles spoke up. "What's his problem?"

"I . . . don't really know," Scott answered truthfully. It wasn't like Derek to lose his cool like that . . . Never mind. That was very Derek-like.

Stiles looked at him curiously, but elected to change the subject for now. "So what's going on, man? Why didn't you return any of my calls? And why is your phone now off?"

"I—uh—I dropped it in the toilet," Scott answered lowly. He had almost forgot that he just got done crushing it.

"Oh, that sucks. You look like you're feeling better though," Stiles reasoned. "Wanna hang out? We missed the party, but I'm sure we can catch the next one. Maybe we can make out on your bed once the Grim Creeper is out of your room? You can even give me a blowjie!."

Stiles waggled his eyebrows in a way that was probably meant to be seductive. They both jumped at a crashing sound inside Scott's bedroom. "Or maybe not."

The doorbell rang and Scott growled in frustration. "What now?" he muttered under his breath as he trudged down the stairs with Stiles in tow.

Melissa had answered and Scott could sense her discomfort right away. In the doorway, he could see a tall, older gentlemen dressed all in black with a newsboy cap over his head. He was smiling brightly, but there was something about his smile that made Scott just as uncomfortable as his mother. It seemed . . . deadly.

"Mr. Argent," Melissa greeted shortly. "What can I do for you?"

"I got a call from Derek to come over," Mr. Argent replied. His voice was raspy and intimidating, but his beaming smile was still prominent on his face. "Heard about your boy."

"What's going on?" Stiles asked curiously. "What about Scott?"

Mr. Argent turned his attention to the lanky teen with the buzzcut head and amber eyes and furrowed his brows in thought. "You . . ." he said finally.

All eyes were now on Stiles, who retreated slightly from all the attention he was getting. "Me?" he squeaked out.

"Your eyes," the old man stated contemplatively, "I feel like I've seen them before."

Again with the uncomfortable silence that seemed to happen more often these days. The tension in the air could be cut with a chainsaw. Suddenly, Stiles felt a strong hand grab him by the scruff of his neck and pull him towards the exit.

"Time for you to go," Derek said gruffly as he tossed Stiles, unceremoniously, out the door.

"Derek!" Scott reprimanded as he moved to get to Stiles before being blocked by Derek's thick arm.

"Leave him," the man said, "We have more important things to talk about."

There was that commanding voice again, so Scott didn't argue with him. He sighed, glaring at Derek, before turning to Stiles. "I'll see you later, Stiles."

"But—" The door slammed in Stiles' face before he could finish his sentence.

Scott was led to the living room where all of them surrounded him, making him feel slightly claustrophobic.

Scott felt a little uneasy sitting in the living room with Mr. Argent and Derek looming over him like this was some kind of police investigation and he was the prisoner guilty for murder.

"Who's he?" Scott finally asked nervously.

"This is Gerard Argent," Derek answered. "He was a friend of my family's."

"I've known Derek since he was just a young little pup howling at the moon," the old man said fondly. "I was there for his first shift. He was fourteen. An early bird."

"He's here to help you," Derek finished. "Just like he's helped me and my family."

"And he knows how much I grieve over the death of his family," Gerard continued, "I only wish I was there to prevent such a tragedy. Talia was a dear friend of mine."

Derek shuddered at the mention of his mother's name. Melissa placed a hand over his shoulder in an act of comfort, which he took gratefully.

"But today is about you, my son," Gerard said cheerily, "Derek tells me you had your first shift last night. He was very excited about it. He had been anticipating it for quite some time."

"He was?" Scott squeaked.

"Derek is an Alpha, he can sense other supernatural creatures like a sixth sense," Gerard said proudly. "Shifts tend to happen at different intervals depending on the wolf. Most cases have shown that wolves who grow up without other wolves take longer to have their first shift. With Derek, he had always grown up with werewolves influencing his life, so he had his at an early age. And you, my son, you're just ripe."

He was making Scott sound like he was a tomato. "So, what is with this whole Alpha-Beta stuff? Derek said Betas obey their Alphas, but why?"

Gerard hummed. "It's just always been that way. Werewolves work in a hierarchy. Alphas at the top, Betas underneath them, and Omegas are the lone wolves."

Scott nodded his head. "And who are you exactly? Are you a werewolf, too?"

The old man laughed good-naturedly. "No, no, my boy. I'm just a regular old fart who has seen his fair share of the supernatural. My family specializes in helping werewolves."

There was a question on the tip of Scott's tongue. ". . . Helping them with what?"

"Keeping the town clean of **_bad_** supernatural creatures," the man said ominously, eyes darkening for a bit.

"Bad?"

"It's just like with humans, Scott," Derek interjected, "There are good supernatural creatures and there are bad ones. My family sought to protect this town from the bad creatures that would lurk around these parks."

Scott's eyes widened. "Like what?"

Gerard hummed again. "Quite a few. Slaughs, sirens, and kanimas. Oh, Beserkers were a particularly nasty breed." He paused, "And there was, of course, the foxes."

Scott's eyebrows knitted together. "The foxes?"

The tension in the room suddenly shifted. Everyone looked at one another, cautiously, as if Scott had just said something that he shouldn't have said.

"My boy," Gerard began, "Foxes are among the worst kind of creatures to inhabit this land."

"Really?" Scott said flatly.

The man nodded. "Oh, yes. The Japanese called them _kitsune_ , the trickster spirit. They appear harmless at first, but they leave behind nothing but destruction and chaos in their wake."

"They cannot be trusted, Scott," Derek stressed, "Werewolves and foxes have had a long-standing rivalry for centuries. You can **_never_** trust a fox."

"But enough about that," Gerard said dismissively, waving a hand in Derek's direction. But Derek was still looking at Scott as if there was something he knew, but wasn't telling. It was almost accusatory with the way he was staring at him, but Scott wasn't sure what he did to earn that look. "I've already written out a letter to the school. You'll be taking the week off to work with Derek."

"Work on what?"

"My boy, you're a newly shifted wolf. You need time to hone your new abilities. You don't want to rip somebody's head off accidentally if they made you mad over a little thing, wouldn't you?" He was chuckling, amused by his dark sense of humor, and it made Scott feel a little uneasy.

"I know this isn't easy for you, Scott," Derek said, "Sometimes life deals you a bad hand, but I promise, I'm going to be here for you."

Scott bit his lip as he thought about what to do next. "Trust Derek on this, Scott," Gerard added, "He only wants to help."

"I guess," the teen sighed. "But I . . . I think I should tell Stiles."

"No!" Derek growled darkly, eyes glowing brightly before he steeled himself back into his usual stoic self. "No, you can't tell Stiles anything. No one can know about us except for the pack and the Argents. Not even your dad."

Scott frowned. "It just doesn't feel right keeping secrets from him."

Noticing the way the Alpha wolf's fists were shaking, Gerard sat up and quickly changed the subject, "You know, my boy, I think you would benefit well from a run in the woods. Why don't you and Derek take a hike on the trail? It'd be a nice bonding experience for you both. Take the pack with you. Derek?"

Derek had looked away, mind somewhere else. He seemed tense and worked up about something. Scott wondered if he had struck nerve bringing up Stiles.

"Doesn't that sound like a good idea, Derek?" Gerard pressed.

Derek finally snapped out of it, but Scott was still eyeing him cautiously.

"Yeah," Derek replied roughly. "Go wait outside. The pack's waiting out there."

"The pack?"

The young man nodded. "Isaac, the twins Ethan and Aiden, and Jackson."

Now that he mentioned it, Scott did remember Jackson being there last night. A sick feeling pooled in his belly as he sat upright, looking completely scandalized. "Jackson? I have to be in a pack with Jackson? I hate him!"

"Sweetheart, calm down," said Melissa as she rushed to his side. "He's your pack, he won't hurt you. Right, Derek?"

"Of course not. I wouldn't allow it." Derek answered before turning to Scott. "Go wait outside."

He gave him an indignant look but obeyed the command anyway. Something told Scott that he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. He gave his mother a kiss goodbye before exiting the house, sighing sadly when he spotted the four Neanderthals that he would have to call a pack from now on, standing tall like statues with solid muscle visible from their sleeveless shirts and running shorts, and skin so taut he doubt anything could piece through them.

" _I need to talk to you about the friend_ ," Derek's voice suddenly appeared in his head. It was almost like he was in the room, listening clearly to the conversation that Derek and Gerard were having.

" _What is it about?_ " he heard Gerard say.

" _Not right now . . . Later,_ " came Derek's reply. " _It's important though_."

" _Hmm, I think I might know what you're going to say, but I'll leave it at that. I will see you later on after the semester with the boys._ "

" _Thank you_."

Scott jumped when Derek suddenly opened the door and walked out. The Alpha squeezed his shoulder before leading him to the black SUV where the other Betas were currently shoving each other playfully as they piled into the vehicle.

"Jackson, in the back," Derek ordered, "Scott's sitting up front with me."

With an angry huff, Jackson got out of the front seat and into the back with his other pack brothers, sending daggers Scott's way as he did. Scott hesitantly got in the van and Derek drove off toward the forest. Derek didn't say a word and only acknowledged the people in the car by sending stern looks in the rearview mirror at the pack, who were busy clowning around with each other in the back seat. Except for Jackson, who elected to spend his time glaring at the back of Scott's head, unbeknownst to the newest Beta of the pack.

After being unceremoniously kicked out of the McCall residence, Stiles went back to his jeep to stew. There were a lot of questions in his mind. First, if Scott had been so sick that he couldn't even pick up the phone, how was it that he seemed almost in perfect health the very next day. Neither fevers nor flus, and especially combinations of the two, could just clear up overnight like it's some nighttime headache. Second, why was Derek Hale, stalker and all around asshole, even there? Scott would always go off about how uncomfortable the guy made him, yet now it seemed like all of those reservations were out the window. And what the hell was Derek doing in Scott's bedroom, acting so invasive and bossy around _his man_?

And third, who the hell was that scary-looking, old man who looked at him as if he was Bugs Bunny and the man was Elmer Fudd and it was "wabbit" season. Whoever that guy was, Stiles felt very uneasy around him and he definitely didn't trust him.

The pack had got to the Beacon Hills Preserve several minutes later and the pack had practically jumped out of the back seat.

"Isn't this place off limits?" Scott asked curiously.

"Such a little angel," Aiden quipped, earning a few laughs from his pack brothers.

Derek also smirked. "That never stopped you when you were young." It was the truth, but Scott wondered how Derek even knew that and the thought creeped him out a bit. "My family owned the preserve. I have every right to be here."

Scott got out of the car and followed the pack into the deeper parts of the woods with Derek in tow.

"Remember," Derek called out, "Stay within the preserve and steer clear of the main road. Don't let anyone see you."

Scott stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the pack had begun to strip down and soon there were four very tall, very muscular and very naked teenage boys.

"What is this? A gay porno?" Scott remarked, earning an amused chuckle from Derek.

"Just watch."

And on cue, the four naked teens were now four giant wolves who then began to run into the forest at a lightning speed, howling at themselves without a care in the world. Scott looked on at the sight, jaw slack and eyes widening in awe. "Can I do that?" he asked hopefully, looking up at Derek.

Derek nodded his head as he shrugged off his jacket and pulled his shirt over his head. Scott's face felt hot and he immediately looked away as Derek finished undressing.

"Uhm, h-how come they . . . _ahem_ —last night, I couldn't control myself. How can they do it so easily?"

Derek was now stark naked as the day he was born, scooping up his clothes and tossing them in the pile where the Betas had left their clothing. Scott wanted to look away, he swore he did, but . . . **_naked Derek_**.

"You weren't really in full control of yourself last night," Derek answered. "It takes a lot of concentration and the full moon just acts as a deficit for you."

Suddenly, inky black fur began to sprout out from underneath Derek's skin and his body twisted into that of a wolf.

The wolf began to hum lowly at him. " _You don't have to try to shift today. You can just run with us. It takes a while to get it right._ "

It was amazing how he could understand what the animal was saying. It was like he was in a movie or a fantasy novel and this was the part where the vampire would come out and steal him away to get married and have werewolf-vampire hybrid babies.

" _Come on_ ," the black wolf barked. " _Come play with the pack._ "

Scott blinked at him. "But how do I . . . ?"

" _It's easy, pup,_ " Derek barked gruffly, " _Just close your eyes and imagine yourself as a wolf._ "

"Just like that?"

" _Just like that._ "

That seemed a little too easy for something that seemed so complicated. Scott was a complete werewolf virgin when it came to this stuff, so Derek was going to need to be a little more specific than that.

" _Take off your clothes._ "

"Wait, what?!" Scott shrieked.

The wolf made a noise that had probably meant to be a chuckle, but came out like heavy panting sound. " _Your clothes don't magically appear when you turn back into a human_."

Scott blushed. He didn't know if he felt comfortable enough to expose himself like that to someone else. The only person he's ever done that to was Stiles, but this wasn't Stiles. This was Derek, who was a freakin' werewolf at the moment and looking at him expectantly. He looped his thumb around his basketball shorts, still unsure of what to do.

"C-could you give me some privacy?" he asked nervously.

Again with that panting chuckle. " _Scott, I was the one who brought you home. And I was the one who helped put on your boxers._ "

Scott's face turned an even deeper shade of red and he didn't even have anything to say to that. Hesitantly, Scott toed off his shoes and slipped his shorts down before pulling his shirt over his head. With one shaky breath, he slipped his boxers down and now he was naked in front of a giant black wolf, who was purring at him like a happy cat. It didn't do anything to get rid of the blush.

" _Close your eyes_ —" Derek instructed. So he did. "— _imagine yourself in the woods_ —" So he did. "— _running, wild and free. Think about how happy you are. Think about the people you love, watching you in admiration and love._ "

Scott kept his eyes shut as he imagined himself as a wolf in the woods at daybreak. The sun was just starting to rise and the entire forest was illuminating in gold. Gold like his eyes when he was beginning to shift. He could see his mom on the sides, waving and calling out to him. And his dad was there. He wanted to believe his dad still cared for him. And then there was Stiles. He would've loved to know about all of this. Stiles was a big mythological buff. He would've loved to see him running around the forest as a wolf.

Suddenly, his body began to feel hot again and that familiar feeling of his skin melting off his body returned as he looked down through magnified vision at the sight of his hands. Only they weren't hands—they were paws! The paws of an actual wolf. There Scott stood, a large, chocolate-colored wolf, feeling the breeze of the wind over his face as he began to dash forward into the forest where his pack brothers had disappeared into. Derek immediately followed him, running up to his side. He was much faster, probably because he was an Alpha.

" _I told you it was simple_ ," he heard Derek say proudly, as if his voice was in his head," _Most new wolves have trouble with their first few shifts, but I can tell you're a natural,_ "

" _How do I talk?_ " Scott asked, feeling a little stupid afterwards.

" _You just did_ ," Derek quipped. " _You're a natural. Follow me_."

They sped up and zipped through the trees with ease as they caught sight of four wolves: two gray, one a light rusty color, and the other a muddy, blond.

" _This is amazing_ ," said Scott dreamily.

When they reached a large clearing beneath the cliff side, Derek began to nip at Scott's ears, growling playfully as he hit him with his fat paw several times. The rest of the Betas were having just as much fun together. It felt nice to be around them and Scott was beginning to understand what Derek meant about a pack being a family.

Derek began tackling him into the ground as he gnawed on Scott's ears again.

" _Oh, look. The lovebirds,_ " Jackson growled, annoyed.

If Scott could furrow his eyebrows, he would, because he had absolutely no idea what Jackson was implying with that comment. He heard Derek rumble lowly right over him.

" _Stop whining, Jackson,_ " the Alpha shot back as he began to lick at Scott's face. So, they were behaving like actual dogs now—lovely.

" _Let's go swimming!_ " Aiden suggested, running off.

" _I'm down!_ " agreed Ethan before he took off after his brother with Isaac. " _Come on, Jackson!_ "

Jackson stood, a low snarl creeping from his snout as he watched Derek dote on Scott. The Alpha flashed his red eyes in a silent order and Jackson begrudgingly left the two wolves to themselves.

" _Is he mad at me?_ " Scott asked.

Derek continued to nose at his ears again. " _Jackson just doesn't like it when someone else is the center of attention._ "

Scott smiled. Or he thought he did. Do wolves smile? " _I'm the center of attention?_ " he asked coyly.

" _I'd say so_ ," Derek answered affectionately before rolling over and resting his head over Scott's neck.

The two just laid there comfortably in the orange leaves. Scott began to wonder if he would even know how to shift back. He certainly seemed to take to werewolf life a lot easier than what he had anticipated, but a part of him still wished that he could share this moment with Stiles. Stiles really would have loved this . . .

" _Hey, Derek,_ " Scott asked suddenly as he stared at a small bug crawling through the leafy forest floor. Enhanced sight was pretty epic. " _Why are you so different?_ "

" _What do you mean?_ "

" _Well, before, you were kind of . . . grumpy?_ " Scott didn't want to say anything to offend his Alpha. " _Now you're more . . . chilled out._ "

Derek hummed. " _It's the pack. Having pack nearby is comforting to me. It keeps me anchored._ "

" _Anchored?_ "

" _That's something I'll teach you later. Today is just for fun._ " Derek purred.

Scott relaxed himself as he and Derek rested near each other, feeling the pull of pack overtake him.

Stiles had watched from a few houses down as Scott left his house with Jackson, Isaac, those two twins, and Derek Hale. It was odd seeing how suddenly he was friends with all of them, because just two months ago, Jackson was beating the ever living shit out of Scott on the lacrosse field. He was beginning to worry that maybe Scott had joined his little cult of roided up douchebags or that maybe he was being forced into a life of prostitution in Derek's brothel of underage twinks. He then shook his head no, because Scott would never abandon him like that. They made a promise to each other, through bullies or blow jobs, they were always going to be friends for life. Plus, Scott would never become an enslaved prostitute without his mother's permission.

Curiosity got the better of him and he drove off, following Derek's SUV down the main road and off to where the preserve was. It wasn't unfamiliar territory for Stiles, but usually it was just him and Scott sneaking around the stream and trying to catch frogs. They never really included anyone else in their forest activities. He parked his jeep far away from where Derek's SUV was, praying that they didn't notice his loud engine going by. He couldn't see anything from outside the woods through the thick tree trunks, which meant he was going to have to investigate deep within the woods.

About twenty minutes of going through the forest, Stiles was ready to give up on the search when he heard laughs in the distance. He walked over to the noise, careful to be as quiet as he could (or at least Stiles' version of quiet) and he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what was in front of him. It was Scott with the rest of those goons, except he was . . . he was . . .

"Scott?" Stiles said out loud, his jaw slack as Scott looked at him like a deer in headlights before rushing to slip on his basketball shorts.

Scott looked like he had seen a ghost with how pale he got. And the other douchebags were still standing, butt ass naked as if they had no shame and had believed their bodies were carved out by gods. They actually kind of were, but that was definitely not the point.

"St-Stiles, I-I-I can explain," Scott said frantically.

That tears it. Stiles had felt a wave of emotions pass through. He felt hurt and betrayed. "What the hell, Scott?" Scott was taking turns looking at him and looking at Derek, who finally had the decency to cover up. "What the hell is going on here? You're with them?"

"It-It's not what it looks like."

It was a tired clichéd line, something the stupid girlfriend in the movies would be fed by the douchebag boyfriend who was fucking around behind her back. But what other explanation could be made for Scott walking out of the forest, butt naked with a bunch of other naked guys like he had just got done having an orgy. What was the explanation to that?

"Well, what's going on, Scott?" Stiles demanded. "Scott?"

He was looking over at Derek, uncertainty on his face. The man was giving him a look like Scott needed his permission to speak.

"Scott?"

"Let me take of him," Jackson growled. Derek moved so his arm was cutting Jackson off.

"Derek," Scott said pleadingly.

"No, Scott." the man ordered.

"Hey, pal, you could go to jail for statutory rape. Y'know that, right?" Stiles said accusingly.

Jackson was in full Neanderthal mode with the way he was snarling. "I want to."

"No, Jackson." said Derek.

"Jackson, no." Isaac interjected.

"Derek, please, let me."

"No, Scott."

Stiles' mouth was hanging open in shock. "Let you what? What does this asshole have over you?"

Jackson didn't seem to take kindly to that comment and Derek and Isaac were full-on holding him back now.

"Scott, what is going on?" Stiles repeated, a little more assertively. "Tell me."

"Don't."

"Scott?"

"Derek, please!"

"I said 'no', Scott," Derek ordered in a firm tone.

Stiles let out a frustrated growl as he turned towards Derek. "God! Can you shut the fuck up?!"

Before he could turn his attention back on Scott, his arm began to twist in pain. Jackson hand lunged for him, grabbing tightly on his forearm, but that wasn't what caught Stiles' attention. Jackson's entire face had become demonic, complete with fangs, glowing yellow eyes, and the scariest looking snarl he had ever seen.

Suddenly, he was being wrenched away from Jackson, toppling over to the ground as Scott got in Jackson's face, letting out the most unnatural roar that he had ever heard. Scott was one of them, too. A demon or some kind of vampire with really ugly sideburns or whatever the hell he was.

"Oh, my God," Stiles gulped.


	4. Appreciate the Lady

Scott was a werewolf. An actual freakin' werewolf. With fangs and claws and the ugly sideburns. Stiles started to question everything now. Who else besides Scott, those four dickbags, and that child molester were werewolves? Were there more than just werewolves? Were vampires real? And if they were, did they sparkle?

"I wondered the same thing," Scott said with a sad smile.

Stiles wasn't even sure if he wanted to look at him right now. Accepting your friend when they come out of the closet, easiest thing in the world, helping them with their alcohol abuse, totally manageable. But how do you handle your friend being a werewolf? A monster that howls at the moon and eats innocent animals? He needed a rulebook or something to help him through all of this. _The Stilinski Guide to Your Boyfriend Being a Werewolf_.

"I don't know if this will make things better, but I literally just found all of this out yesterday." Stiles just nodded. "But this is good, because now there are no secrets anymore."

Stiles scoffed. "Yeah, except for the fact that one of your 'pack brothers'—" He used air quotes for emphasis. "—tried to kill me."

And Stiles definitely did not like that look Jackson was giving him. He almost felt like if Scott hadn't interjected, he could've easily had been killed.

Stiles looked up at Scott, blinking curiously. "Are you gonna kill someone?"

Scott's eyes widened. He hadn't thought about that at all, to be perfectly honest. Derek and Gerard mentioned something about bad supernatural creatures, but they said that they were "protecting" Beacon Hills.

"Scott, I'm gonna go home," Stiles said suddenly, snapping Scott out of his thoughts.

He didn't want to leave Stiles' side, but it was probably for the best that he gives Stiles his space until he was ready to talk. Truth be told, he still needed some time to register everything himself since all of this had happened within the span of a day. He gave him nod and pulled him into a small, short hug before sending Stiles off.

Scott walked back to the main road to see Derek leaning cross-armed against the van with the pack already in their seats. He let out a shaky sigh before walking over. He could read the look on Derek's face, and even though the Alpha wolf had a seriously bad case of resting bitch face, Scott could tell that he was definitely not happy.

"I'm really sorry," Scott mumbled, because there was nothing else he could really say to fix the situation.

Derek's eyes softened a little bit, but he still spoke sternly. "We need to talk later on."

Scott didn't argue, just nodded his head and said, "Okay," before following him to the van.

Once the pack had all been dropped off, Scott and Derek were left alone in the SUV. They reached Scott's place a little after the sun went down and it was then when Derek finally spoke up.

"We have a problem," the Alpha began.

Scott winced slightly. "I know. I'm sorry about all of that. I mean, I know you didn't want me to say anything and, technically, I didn't, but I'm really, really—"

"Scott, it's not about that," Derek interrupted. He saw Scott give him a look of confusion and elaborated. "You remember what Gerard said earlier?"

Scott thought to himself, "Vaguely."

"Remember how he said that I could sense other supernatural creatures?" Derek asked, a little ominous.

"Yeah?"

Derek gave an expectant look, as if he were supposed to already know. "So . . . ?"

The man just sighed dramatically, "You're friend, Stiles," he said slowly. Again, he was giving him that expectant look.

"What about him?"

Derek now had this look on his face that practically said that he was mentally face-palming himself, and suddenly Scott felt a blush form in his cheeks, a little embarrassed by his cluelessness.

"Stiles is one of them."

Scott wasn't sure if he heard him right and asked him to repeat the statement. When he confirmed that Stiles definitely **_was_** a supernatural creature of the night, all of the noise completely evaporated from Scott's ear. So, now Stiles was a monster, too? That was convenient. He wondered if Stiles even knew that or not. Stiles had a bit of a habit at keeping things from people, the boy practically lied about everything to everyone, even Scott. His excuse for that was that Scott was just more gullible.

"How?"

"He was born that way," Derek answered, "It's not your fault."

"But he wouldn't hurt anyone, right?"

Derek gave him an unsure look, but Scott was indignant. "I know he wouldn't hurt anyone. He's a great guy."

"Scott, Stiles isn't some werewolf or a banshee. He's the worst of them all."

Scott began to chew on his lower lip. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Stiles is not just any supernatural creature, he's a _kitsune_. He's a fox, Scott. He's a fox and he's dangerous."

Derek was right. Sometimes life did deal you a bad hand. But Scott didn't just get a bad hand, he got a shitty one. He felt like the universe was basically telling him that he could fuck off and not have any peace in his life. In just twenty-four hours, his entire life was tilted on its axis. Now, nothing was going to be the same. His body, his relationships, his **_life_**. It wasn't fair.

Derek had firmly told him that foxes and werewolves could never mix, that foxes could never be trusted. But Scott has known Stiles since they were in kindergarten. There was absolutely no reason to think that Stiles was dangerous. He has seen this man try to kick a soccer ball, for crying out loud. he wasn't a threat.

"Sometimes, they're not always what they appear," Derek had explained, "Foxes take until their adolescence to fully mature and that's when the darkness settles in."

"The darkness?" Scott had repeated, a little disbelieving. It sounded so overdramatic that Scott wasn't even sure if he could that seriously.

But Derek took it seriously and that was what mattered. "When they're ready, foxes can turn dark and evil. And before you know it, its leaving chaos and destruction in its wake. I've known from past experience with _kitsune_."

"But Stiles would never hurt anyone," the teen stressed. It was beginning to feel like no matter what, Derek wasn't changing his mind about his boyfriend/best friend. "He's . . . he's not gonna hurt anyone."

It was beginning to sound like Scott was more trying to convince himself than Derek. But he had stood by his faith in Stiles, much to Derek's disappointment. Thankfully, the Alpha did not order him to stay away from Stiles. For now, at least. He returned to his house where his mother was waiting for him by the living room. Judging by the sympathetic glances she was sending his way, Derek had already filled her in on the day's events. Without saying anything else, he dragged his feet up the stairs, flopped into his room and on the bed, and fell right to sleep.

Stiles was tapping the edge of his textbook with the back of his pen as he thought contemplatively about what he was going to do next. He could call Scott, tell him he forgave him and then maybe he could go and check out Scott in his day-to-day werewolf activities. Except for the fact that Jackson hated him and he hated Jackson. Derek Hale didn't seem too fond to look at him either.

As he attempted to finish up his report on the male circumcision for economics, a small squeak alerted him. He jumped up and turned to see the window had been mysteriously opened, which was not good because he was sure that he had closed it before he had left for Scott's. Hesitantly, he walked over and peered downward over the window sill to see if anyone had come in. Thankfully, no one was around, so he was all in the clear. He looked behind him to close the door to his room, which had actually did leave open, and was met with a surprise from behind.

Next thing he knew, he was being pinned against the wall by thick arms, bushy brows, and a permanent bitch face complete with a broody scowl.

Stiles threw his hands up in surrender as Derek Hale tightened his grip on his collar. "Hey, hey, come on, dude. I won't tell anyone. I am like the last person anyone would ever believe about something like this. I mean, come on, if you were not you and you were me and I told you all about that, you wouldn't tell other people that. Or I wouldn't. I'm not sure where I was going with that, actually."

"Shut up!" Derek growled.

"Shutting up," Stiles said, miming a zipper and throwing away the invisible key. "By the way, have I mentioned that you have impeccable taste in wardrobe?"

Derek did not look amused. Or maybe he was amused and that was just the permo-bitch face at work. Maybe this was a happy Derek Hale? But considering how terribly the forest incident went, probably not, so Stiles would do well to shut up.

"I'm not here about that," Derek began.

"So, what do you want?"

"I want you to stay away from, Scott," Derek demanded, and there was definitely an unspoken threat in there somewhere.

Stiles' jaw went slack. "Are you serious? You think you can just come in here and—" Stiles was slammed back into the door, hitting the back of his head with a loud groan. He was lucky that his dad was working a late shift at the police station, otherwise he was afraid of what Derek would do if he came to investigate that loud banging sound.

"That wasn't a suggestion," Derek bit out venomously, "You think I don't know what you are? You think your kind could hide from the Alpha for long?"

He was yelling now and Stiles was definitely glad his father wasn't here, because this guy had lost his mind. Any longer, and soon Stiles would be in a wheelchair, having narrowly escaped the evil clutches of the Alpha werewolf, Derek Hale, as the man gets dragged away in a straight jacket and all the way to Eichen House where he belonged with the other crazies.

Stiles had began to struggle to shake free, but Derek's grip was practically like marble.

"I don't know what you're taking about," Stiles huffed.

The man narrowed his eyes before letting him go. "I'm not going to fall for that dumb act."

"It's not an act," Stiles mumbled, realizing he just called himself dumb afterwards.

But Derek didn't look convinced. "I'm watching you, fox," he growled, "You hurt Scott and I **_will_** destroy you myself."

And with that, Derek released Stiles from his grip, letting the teen fox flop down on the hardwood, and in the next second, he was gone just as fast as he had arrived.

Stiles had avoided Scott for all of next week since the incident in his room with Derek. It wasn't that he was scared or anything, he was just terrified out of his mind that Derek would rip him from limb to limb and then feed it to his pack of underage twink wolves. Speaking of which, those wolves didn't seem all that bothered with pushing Stiles around like he were some kind of rag doll or like he was their own personal punching bag. He didn't like this one bit.

Scott and Stiles shared four classes with each other, plus lacrosse practice. It was going to be near impossible for Stiles to completely avoid Scott. If anything, he could just simply not talk to him and pretend like he was still stewing, because Scott would respect his boundaries.

He sat in the back row during chemistry, trying his best to ignore the sad look on Scott's puppy face as Stiles immersed himself in his science book. A petite-looking girl with dark hair came up and pointed at the seat right next to him.

"Is that taken?" she asked, nervously. There was a slight blush on her nose, which was very obvious on her light skin.

Stiles just shook his head and motioned for her to have a seat, which she seemed all too eager to do. "I'm Kira, by the way. I'm new."

"Stiles."

Kira giggled, actually giggled, like some Japanese school girl reading very explicit gay porn comics. She must have realized it herself, because now she looked extremely embarrassed with herself and ducked her head into her arms. It was kind of adorable, to be perfectly honest.

Throughout the class, Scott had kept turning around, sneaking as many glances as he could Stiles' way without that psycho Mr. Harris catching him, and Stiles was doing his best to avoid his gaze. He still had a lot to think about, but now was not the time for this. He smoothly leaned on one elbow to look over at the new girl, who was currently fumbling through the pages, the heavy blush still on her face.

"So, where are you from?" Stiles asked, "Haven't seen you around these parks before."

Kira made a weird gurgling sound, as if she were tongue-tied at the moment and the English language had gone bye-bye for her. "Cool. Never heard of that place."

She let out a small laugh. "That's funny. You're funny. And cute." Her eyes were widening. "I have no idea why I just said that. You didn't need to know that. I mean, that sounded pretty creepy. I mean, I could be a serial killer for all you know." Her eyes were like saucers now. "Not that I **_am_** a serial killer, I don't know why I just told you that. That was just a poor example, nothing to take seriously. I just . . ."

She trailed off when she realized that all eyes were now on their table. Harris looked unamused and Scott was still shooting Stiles several concerned looks. Kira's face was practically a tomato as she slowly buried her face into her arms once again, leaving Stiles to endure all of the stares being thrown his way.

"Heh," Stiles let out nervously, "Covalent bonds are lame, amirite?"

That got him a week's worth of detention. Fucking Harris.

"Hey," came Scott's voice from behind. "Can we talk?"

They walked over to their spot, their table, where Erica Reyes and Vernon Boyd were currently eating by themselves just at the edge.

"What's up?" Stiles said, digging into his turkey surprise.

"I'm sorry," Scott began. "I just wanted to get that out there. I know things haven't been easy lately, but I just want you to know that I don't want things between us getting weird."

Stiles softened slightly. "Yeah, I know you don't. And I'm sorry for acting so weird." Because it wasn't like Scott's werewolf cult leader just threatened Stiles' life if he ever came within inches of that beautiful puppy face of his. Not that he was surprised since Scott's puppy face should be revered and treasured and kept safe from horny hyperactive teenagers like Mr. Stiles Stilinski.

"So, we're good?"

Stiles just smiled at him. "We're better than good." He held out his hand to give Scott a fist bump before Scot mentioned having to leave for some "pack business" with Jackson and the other evil twinks, and he took off.

The problem with Scott was that he was an optimist, and he knew that about himself, but he still liked to believe that everything can be okay and that no one has to compromise themselves into doing something that they didn't want to do. For Scott, he didn't want to have to ditch Stiles has his boyfriend or his best friend, especially the latter. Whether they were together intimately or not, Scott always wanted to have his friendship with Stiles. That was the one thing he valued most in this world besides his mother. But the problem was that Derek and the pack didn't like the idea.

Derek tried his best to be understanding about it, but he just couldn't get over his aversion to foxes. And it wasn't like Stiles even knew what he was or what he was capable of, so it wasn't like he could really do anything, right? Judging by the pointed look he got from Derek when he suggested that, he guessed not.

So the thing with Stiles had been a tentative thing for the past couple of weeks until the semester was beginning to come to a close and summer was upon them. For the most part, summer was supposed to be something to look forward to. Three whole months of uninhibited Stiles-and-Scott time? Stiles would've been drooling like a mad man at the thought.

Except now, their plans had changed and Scott was skating on thin ice between the pack and being with Stiles. He wanted everything to work out, but everything going on in his life was pushing against that.

On weekends, Derek had taught him a lot about the ins and outs of being a werewolf. He taught about self-control, about finding an anchor, and learning a bit about pack dynamics. While most would look at Derek and see this scary-looking thuggish asshole without very little respect for personal space, he was actually all of that, but there was just a dash more to him that showed that he cared for Scott. After all, the first thing that Derek had told him was that he was going to be there for Scott, no matter what. If that were the case, he had hoped that Derek would kind of get off his back about Stiles.

And maybe he was trying to make an effort in doing that since he didn't blatantly order Scott to never see Stiles again, and he was very thankful for that.

After one particularly hard and private training session, Scott found himself exhausted and ready to pass out onto the floor of Derek's loft.

"I feel like I'm dead," he let out with a heavy pant. "I think you just killed your Beta."

Derek chuckled before pulling his wifebeater over his head and then dumping a whole bottle of water over his spiky-haired head. The water was sliding off his hair, cascading down his neck and through his abs. It was a delicious sight to be hold and Scott needed to stop staring because he was in a committed relationship (or at the very least, he had an "It's Complicated" with Stiles). But looking never seemed to hurt . . .

"I can smell that," Derek said with a smirk.

Scott blushed and his scent was suddenly filled with embarrassment. Derek had already taught him about scents and smells and how everyone gave off a specific smell that could help a werewolf track them down if they ever needed to find him. Scott had always been a great finder during the days when he and Stiles would play hide-and-seek. Those were happy times and just thinking about it put a smile to his lips.

"I'm sorry," Scott said quickly, "That was . . . that was so inappropriate."

"It's alright," Derek said, "I mean, I guess it's natural to be attracted to your Alpha."

He was still sporting that cocky smirk and Scott couldn't even stop himself from smiling back at him. "Yeah, but you're way too old for me."

Derek frowned, and the offended look on his face was just hilarious that Scott wished he had been filming this. "I mean, I'm sixteen and you're twenty-four."

Derek shrugged. "You'll be eighteen soon."

Scott was a little taken aback by the comment. It was almost like Derek was implying something. "Really? I-I didn't know you were . . ."

Derek had scooped up another bottled water before chugging it all in one gulp. "People fall in love with people, not a gender, Scott."

The teen nodded his head in understanding. "So . . . would you want to . . . Y'know . . . ?"

Derek walked over to him and squatted down to Scott's level. He was searching his eyes, pale green staring back into soulful brown, and his mouth quirked up into a small smile. "I think I should I talk to you about another werewolf mythology." Scott looked at him expectantly. "Sometimes—and this hasn't always been the complete truth, but there are some cases of it happening—sometimes, werewolves can take a mate."

"A mate? You want me to be your mate?" Scott asked frankly, almost in disbelief. When Derek had coyly shrugged his shoulders, Scott pressed even further. "But why me?"

Derek took a moment to think about that, unsure of what to say. "I don't know."

"But you do want to . . . wait, does that mean you wanna have sex with me?" Because Scott **_totally_** did not think about that several times during his private "Scotty time". Absolutely **_not_**.

Derek let out a small laugh. "Mating goes a bit deeper than that. It's not just a sexual thing. It's about trust and respect. If I was being perfectly honest with you, yeah, I do want you to be my mate. I think you'd be a perfect mate for me."

Scott was hanging to his every word. He suddenly felt a little conflicted about it. He shook his head back to snap himself back to reality because he had to remind himself that he was with Stiles and even entertaining the idea was just wrong. "I'm sorry, I can't."

The Alpha looked at him confused. "It's just . . . It's Stiles," Scott explained apologetically. "I can't . . ."

Derek let out an annoyed grunt before standing straight up to get a towel to dry himself off. "Whatever," he mumbled under his breath and Scott felt a little bad for him.

He felt like he may have been skating on thin ice, but he had to get what he had to say off his chest. "Thank you." Derek looked over his shoulder, confused. "For not forcing me to never see Stiles again. I know you probably want me to avoid him at all costs, but thank you for keeping your word about not forcing me to do things that I don't want to do."

Derek didn't reply to him. He just gave him an understanding nod before tossing the towel over his head and signaling Scott that their training session was now over for the day.

Stiles pulled into the drive way of the house where Kira had lived, so they could work together on their science project that was for a third of their final grade. Harris was a gigantic dickbag and he probably would've loved to have seen Stiles fail miserably, just so he could be held back and that psychopath would get the pleasure of torturing him again. That was why he wanted to get this done as soon as possible.

The girl seemed way too eager when they announced the pairings and Stiles got her as a lab partner. It was no secret that the girl had a crush on him, she was blatantly obvious with the way she got all tongue-tied around him. But it really wasn't her fault that Stiles was a sex god, so he couldn't blame her for falling in love with him at first sight.

"You must be Stiles." A distinguished-looking woman, whom Stiles assumed was Mrs. Yukimura, had answered the door. "Kira is upstairs. Why don't you come inside and I'll go get her. Please remove your shoes."

"Okie-dokie," Stiles said as he sashayed into the house, toeing off his dirty sneakers and checking out the place. The pad was pretty sick. Very nice and _feng shui_.

" _Feng shui_ is Chinese," Mrs. Yukimura corrected with a tight-lipped smile. Well, he was off to a great start. "Kira! Your friend is here."

He heard footsteps stomping down the stairs and Kira appeared wearing sweats and her hair was curled upward. She actually looked pretty hot, he wasn't going to lie.

"Oh, my God," she said with a panicky voice. "I-I-I'm coming down. I mean, I'm already down, I just—I need to go get changed!"

With a worried cry, Kira ran back the stairs, blubbering about needing twenty minutes to spruce up.

"She's not normally like this," Mrs. Yukimura said as she led him to the living area. "Would you like some tea?"

"You guys got Lipton?" Stiles said, beaming.

The woman looked at him oddly. "Or I could get you some oolong?"

"Whichever," Stiles waved, a smile still on his face.

After getting him the tea, they continued engaging in small talk while Kira got ready. "So, Kira tells me you're on the lacrosse team?"

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't remember telling her that."

"MOM!" he heard Kira shriek.

"Oh, well," Kira's mother stuttered awkwardly, "So do you?"

"Uh, yeah, but I'm mostly on the bench. Haven't gotten a taste of the field just yet." _If you don't count the many times Jackson's bumped me into the ground_ , he thought to himself.

His eyes began darting in all different directions, a horrible habit he had always had a problem with since he was little, until they landed on the strange looking pendant that was around Mrs. Yukimura's neck.

He pointed a finger at it, asking, "What's that?"

"Oh, this?" the woman smiled, looking down at the necklace, "It's a family heir loom of sorts. It tells the story of the _kitsune_."

"Oh, the fox!" Stiles interjected.

The woman nodded her head, impressed. "Yes, it's one of the most ancient legends in Japan. They say they _kitsune_ can live for hundreds of years."

"Aren't they, like supposed to be evil or something?"

The woman gave him a pointed look, " _Kitsune_ are not evil. They are the known as the trickster spirit. Most people would think that they're these evil, conniving spirits who bring nothing but pain and mischief, but they don't really know the full story. Everybody has a backstory, and a _kitsune_ have their own stories to tell."

Stiles nodded his head, intrigued. Before they could continue the conversation, Kira was already downstairs, full dressed and staring daggers at her mother.

The summer had finally rolled around and it was the hardest for Scott. Classes were finally over, thankfully, he never had to hear from Harris about covalent bonds ever again. ("Until next year, Mr. McCall," the chemistry teacher added icily.)

However, the real challenge came when Derek had called the Betas over to the loft for another pack meeting. Two new Betas had since joined the pack after Scott's frist shift. Erica Reyes, the first female werewolf he had ever known (and what a transformation she got!), and Vernon Boyd, who seemed happy to follow Erica around wherever she went. Derek seemed a lot more grounded now that he was surrounded by such a large pack, a lot happier as well. Seven young, ripe Betas. The Hale Pack was finally alive again.

"Alright, pups," Derek announced, "Pack up a few of your things and be ready by 5AM sharp tomorrow morning."

Scott had almost completely forgot about the summer program with the Argent family. Old Mr. Argent had been really adamant about training the new crop of Betas and supposedly, this facility up in San Francisco would help hone all of their skills. Everyone, except Scott, was ecstatic about going. It would be a nice bonding experience for the pack, says Derek.

As the teens all piled out of the loft, Scott elected to stay behind to talk to Derek.

"Do I really have to go?" Scott asked. It was a rhetorical question, because he pretty much already knew the answer.

"What's on your mind?" his Alpha asked him as they took a seat on his couch.

"Well, it's only been about a month since the whole, y'know, **_thing_** and I feel like everything's changed too much already. I mean, I don't even know where I stand with Stiles anymore. I barely see him anymore and it's starting to feel like he and I are pushing away from each other."

Derek listened as best as he could, but Scott definitely noticed the moments when he tensed up at the mere mention of Stiles' name.

The Alpha just shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe it's for the best." Scott gave him a look. "I don't really know what to say. I feel like my opinion on the matter is going to be biased no matter what, so you're probably just better off deciding for yourself. But let me give you a piece of advice, Scott." He leaned in close. "Sometimes things aren't meant to be and it's hard for us to accept it because we want it all. It doesn't ever really get easy, but it does get easier."

"What are you saying?" Scott asked.

"I'm saying, you might have to do what needs to be done." He didn't say the exact words, but he was pretty sure there was a "break things off with Stiles" in that little statement.

Stiles was chilling out in the living room, getting an early start on his lazy ass activities for the summer, when the doorbell rang. He paused his DVR and sat up to answer it.

"Scott?" he said in surprise, "Hey, what's up, man? Come on in."

Scott remained in place, twiddling his thumbs together and keeping his eyes locked on his feet as if they were the most interesting thing the world. Stiles knew that look. Scott had this same look when he told Stiles that he was grounded for the week and that he wouldn't be able to come over for their weekly sleepover. But something in the back of his mind told him that this wasn't about a cancelled sleepover.

"Scott?" he said, voice cracking slightly.

He didn't need to say the words because he could already read everything on Scott's face. That was the thing about them both. They knew each other so well, they didn't even need to speak. They could just give each other a look and they'd understand. And judging by the devastated look on Scott's face, that cold feeling of dread clawing up his back, Stiles already knew before he opened his mouth.

"No," Stiles whimpered. "Can we work through it?"

Scott swallowed thickly. "I want to." There was a "but" hanging on the end of that. Buts were never a good thing, unless they were the ones attached to Scott's backside. "But we can't be friends anymore."

That one hit Stiles even harder. He had anticipated the break-up, but he didn't see that one coming. Fighting back angry tears, Stiles growled, "God, what is their fucking problem with me? Is it because I'm not popular? Are you and your little twinky werewolf cult against below-average attractive people? It's not my fault I'm so unfortunate-looking that I'm not worthy of their presence!"

"That's not true." _You're beautiful_. "We just . . ."

"Then tell me why? Why do they hate me so much? Because I'm human?"

Scott closed his eyes, letting a stray tear trail down his cheek. "No."

"Then what is it?"

"No, it's because you're not human."

Stiles was ready to rip him a new one. Tell all of his secrets to his face, scream at him about how stupid he was for letting a bunch of furry assholes take control over him, but that was when he stopped dead and began registering what Scott had just said. "Wait, what?"

Scott looked away.

"Scott?" He didn't answer. "Scott?" he said more firmly. "Scott, what did you just say?"

Scott finally worked up the courage to look Stiles in the face. "You're not human," he said, barely above a whisper.

Stiles' jaw dropped. "How would you know that?"

"Derek," he answered. "He can sense other supernatural creatures."

Stiles looked down at the ground, jaw still hanging. He wasn't looking at anything in particular, his mind was too focused on what Scott had just said. "Wh-what am I?"

Scott let out a deep sigh and it looked like it physically pained him to admit it. "You're a fox, Stiles. Foxes and werewolves can't be friends. Ever. We—we can't be friends anymore. Those days are over."


	5. Goodbye May Seem Forever, Part 1

It was safe to say that sophomore year has officially sucked. Not only did Stiles lose his best friend and boyfriend to an army of hairy Abercrombie models, but the reason he lost Scott was because he was a supernatural creature of the night and werewolves and foxes just don't mix. What kind of bullshit excuse was that? What was this? Segregation? Did Stiles have to drink water from a special fox-only fountain? He had never heard anything so stupid in his life. It was almost insulting.

No, actually, it was very insulting. This was beyond their control, it wasn't fair. He wanted his life back. He wanted his Scott back. His old Scott, with the asthma, the awkwardness, the inability to hold a conversation because he was too much of a precious cinnamon bun to interact like normal people. He didn't want this for either for them.

But the revelation did make him think about a few things. He knew that his dad wasn't a fox, or at least, it was unlikely. His dad had already gave him the adopted speech back when he was eleven. He took it pretty hard, especially since he cared about his mother so much and when he had been told that, it just felt like he was mourning for a stranger. He remembered everything in vivid detail because he rushed over to Scott's house and slept there in his arms. They weren't even a couple back then, but they acted very much like one. Just the memory of it would bring a smile back to his lips.

Suffice it to say, he was pretty sure that his dad would have no clue about the supernatural goings on, unless he was some kind of genie or a were-chicken or whatever. He was pretty sure those things existed in real life. Why wouldn't they? Foxes and werewolves were totally a thing. He couldn't really go to anyone with this kind of information, otherwise he'd be getting a one-way ticket to a special padded room at Eichen House. But he figured that he could consult somebody on _kitsune_ mythology.

He pulled up around the corner to the Yukimura's street and parked his car in the front. He got out and walked to the door and began knocking repeatedly until he could hear the faint sounds of a woman saying, "Coming!"

"Oh, Stiles," Mrs. Yukimura said in surprise when she opened the door. "Kira's actually not in right now. But she'll be back in just a few minutes."

"That's okay, Mrs. Y. I'm actually not here for Kira," Stiles replied, "I was wondering if we could continue that talk about the _kitsune_ legend? I know you're probably busy, but it would really help—"

The woman cut him off. "So, you finally figured it out."

Stiles looked at her, confused. "Wh-what?"

She was smiling fondly at him and let out a small chuckle. "I knew as soon as I met you. I could tell."

Stiles' eyes widened because **_no fucking way_**. "You know?"

Mrs. Yukimura leaned closer to him. "It takes a fox to know a fox," she said with a wink.

Stiles was completely dumbfounded. She ushered him into the house and led him to the living area where she offered him some herbal tea. Since he was about to have a heart attack, some tea would be lovely to calm his nerves. "Wait, so foxes can sense other foxes?"

"In a way," Mrs. Yukimura answered as she poured him a cup. "Foxes aren't like wolves. We can't physically see your foxfire, we can sense it."

"Foxfire?"

"It's what surrounds us, kind of like an aura. I could feel your energy when you walked into the house. It's why Kira was so attracted to you, she could sense it, too."

"Kira's a _kitsune_?!"

"Yes, but she doesn't know it, yet," the woman replied, "And I never said anything because I didn't think you knew. Although, I guess it was my responsibility to tell you, all things considering."

"Considering?"

"I helped your mother help you escape the hunters."

There was a moment of silence between the two. Stiles' eyes widened in shock and he immediately demanded answers.

"Your mother's name was Margaret Connor. She was a dear of friend of mine. We came to Beacon Hills together to see if we could start a new life from our old one. She was married to a human, Brian." Brian and Margaret Connor. Pretty plain-Jane names, but Stiles was drinking it all up. "But he was killed when the hunters attacked, leaving you and your mother to go on the run. I was with her that night. She had entrusted me in finding you a safe haven. I couldn't risk the hunters tracking me down with you in my charge, so I opted to leave you at the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. I knew they would try to follow me out of the town, so I figured that it was best to hide you in plain sight. It appears that they never suspected a thing since you're still alive."

"Wait, wait, back up a second. Who are the hunters? Wh-what's that all about? Like fox hunters? Those are real things?"

The woman sighed sadly. "Yes, I'm afraid that's the hard part. The hunters are a family known as the Argents."

Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face. "Wait, wait, Argent . . . Argent. I know that name."

"The Argents are the people who are in charge of the werewolves."

Stiles' head shot up. "My friend Scott's a werewolf."

"Yes, that means Scott."

"Oh, my God. Wait, th-those people that Scott are with, they're the ones who killed my parents? That old man?"

"Not just the old man. They train the werewolves to become killers."

Stiles swallowed. "So, Scott . . . ?"

"Stiles, your friend is going to come back as a hunting werewolf. He'll be a trained killer."

Stiles could feel the beginnings of a panic attack rising his chest. His breathing became ragged as he clutched his fists into the hem of his shirt and tried to calm himself. "No . . . No, not my friend Scott. He'd never change. He would never hurt me."

Mrs. Yukimura didn't respond to him, but she didn't have to because he could practically hear her thoughts on how naïve he sounded.

"I hope you're right, Stiles."

The summer had ended just as fast as it had begun. Stiles had decided to hang around the Yukimura residence with Kira and her mother, learning more and more about being a fox. Suffice it to say, he learned a few tricks along the way. No pun intended. His hair had grown out a lot that it was starting to become a hassle putting gel in, so he just let it stick out like he had a bad case of bed hair, and his muscles became more much more lean and taut. _Kitsune_ training was pretty intense, and a good distraction from everything.

But the thing that really kept him going through the long, hot months was that Scott would be returning from the pack training center with the Argents. Mrs. Yukimura had trained him well enough to defend himself and he had a few scores to settle. But first, he needed to see Scott. Just to be in his presence, even if he had told him that they couldn't be friends anymore.

He stopped by the McCall household where Melissa had greeted him graciously.

"I almost missed having you around," she had said sweetly.

She had already been briefed on everything, from Stiles being a fox to the things Gerard Argent had been doing from behind the scenes. She was surprisingly unfazed.

"I always knew I could never trust him completely," she said finally. "But I kept my mouth shut for Derek's sake. He trusts him so much and for a while, Gerard was all he had. And really though, crossing Gerard is not something you want to do."

Stiles nodded his head in understanding before heading upstairs to Scott's room where he'd wait until he finally got home. It was around 8PM before he heard a car out front and muffled voices that vaguely sounded like Scott saying goodbye to his pack mates. He waited until he heard Scott entering the house and greeted his mother with a hug and kiss, where he chatted animatedly about the getaway. Stiles could then hear Scott trudge up the stairs until he reached the outside of his bedroom door where he stilled. Scott probably knew he was there.

The knob turned hesitantly before it opened revealing . . . **_Holy shit_**.

"Scott . . ." Stiles whispered, voice full of emotion.

"Stiles," Scott responded, surprised.

But Stiles was the one who was surprised. Scott had changed so much over the summer. He looked . . . _amazing_. He got a haircut, finally, because that skater boy look he was sporting was not doing it for him. He also looked a lot muscular, more toned than the Scotty he knew before. His arms were huge and so taut. His skin looked like it may have gone a few shades darker.

Stiles licked his lips, because _fuck_ , Scott looked super hot right now.

"Stiles," Scott repeated as Stiles let go of all inhibition and attacked Scott with a tight hug. Fuck rivalries, he was going to hug his best friend.

"I-I missed you, Scotty," Stiles said. He may have been crying, he wasn't sure and he didn't really care. "I missed you so much."

Scott squeezed tighter and maybe if Stiles hadn't just got done with three months of badass _kitsune_ training, his formerly frail bones might have snapped like twigs. But he was just thankful to be back in his Scotty's arms. His big, strong, **_manly_** arms.

After the gooey hug fest, they sat on the edge of the bed and talked for a bit. Stiles didn't bring anything about Gerard or what had went on while he was away. They both matured, they both grew up. It was like they were moving on to the next chapter of their lives now.

"Things have changed, y'know?" Scott said with a sad sigh. He was thumbing around with something on his . . .

"Is that an engagement ring?" Stiles said incredulously, staring at the silver band on Scott's ring finger.

Scott held his hand up to give Stiles a better view. "It's a promise ring."

"To who?"

Scott looked away. Stiles' eyes began to narrow dangerously. "To Derek?"

He didn't answer and that was just as good as a yes. "Isn't that a illegal or something?"

"No, it's a promise for when I turn eighteen." He hesitated slightly. "Derek and I . . . we're gonna be mates."

Stiles scrunched his nose up in disgust. "Mates? That sounds so . . . **_doggy_**."

Scott gave him a pointed look. He guessed that dog jokes were not funny to werewolves. "So, that's it then?"

Scott hung his head, almost as if he were embarrassed or ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry."

"What's gonna happen if you guys realize that you weren't meant for each other?"

But Scott just shook his head. "Werewolves mate for life, Stiles."

The fox's eyes bugged out of his head as his jaw dropped to the floor. "So you're gonna give your life away to some guy? You haven't even lost your virginity yet, dude!" He gave him a suspicious look. "Or have you?"

Scott blushed at he accusation, but he fervently denied that claim. "No, we agreed to wait until I'm of legal age. God, Stiles!"

The fox just shook his head in disappointment. There was a small moment of silence between them before Scott spoke up again. "You know, I think about you every day?"

Scott looked up at him. "Our friendship meant something to me. We promised that we would be friends forever. Remember? When it got so bad, I had you. I always had you. You helped me through my worst times . . . I needed you just like you needed me." Tears were trailing down his face, leaving shiny tracks over his cheeks. "I will never regret meeting you. I will never regret our friendship. No matter what, you were the one I will always remember. Not werewolves, not foxes, not my mom dying or my dad drinking. Not getting on the lacrosse team or graduating high school. When I get old and I look back on my life, I'm just going to remember you." He paused, shutting his eyes. "I love you."

Scott let out choked gasp. He was already crying, practically sobbing.

"I love you so much, Scott. I don't even think I told you that yet. But now seems as good o' time as any. You're my first love. I could have a million lovers in my life, but you will always be the first."

Scott's lips curved upward into a small smile, his cheeks stained wet. "Not Lydia?"

Stiles snorted. "Well, my first _gay_ love."

Scott playfully whacked him on the shoulder, laughing like they used to when they were young. When their laughter finally died down, they stopped to look right at each other. His eyes were on Stiles', boring deep into him, practically into his soul. They slowly moved toward each other, trembling and nervous. It was happening. Their lips met and in that moment, they were lost.

Frantic kissing, excited moans, clothes being pulled over their heads and shrugged off their limbs. Stiles had Scott straddling his lap, naked as the day as he was born and light shining against his skin that made it glow as if Scott were sent from heaven. And really, though, Scott totally was.

"Stiles," Scott gasped as he felt the young fox's lips against his neck, sucking and biting at his jugular, leaving marks that faded away almost as fast as they were formed. Scott could feel blunt nails scratching down against his back, trying to dig their way into his skin so they could hold him down while Stiles continued his sinful assault. "Please."

Stiles didn't need to be told twice. He didn't bring the condoms or the lube, and it probably would've been the more responsible thing to wait until they did. But considering how things have been between the two, their rare moment together wasn't going to wait for anything, they had reasoned. Stiles propped Scott onto his back, his legs spread over his lap, exposing his entrance to him. Scott hissed slightly when he felt Stiles' spit-slicked fingers enter him slowly, one-by-one until there were a total of three inside him. Stiles did the best he could, and his spit was the only viable form of lubricant that they had. He continued until he was satisfied enough that Scott was ready and prepped before lining his cock up and entering him.

Scott whimpered, fisting the sheets desperately as Stiles fucked him in slow thrusts. Eventually, the pain subsided to a dull ache and he began to relax more as Stiles began to quicken the pace.

"Scott," Stiles said with bated breath. "Scott, I'm gonna come."

Since he wasn't wearing a condom, he wasn't sure if Scott wanted it inside him or if Stiles should just pull out and finish off into a tissue.

"It—It's okay," Scott said, eyes clenched tight as his mouth began to hang lower and lower until it was becoming an O-shape. "Just do it."

Stiles continued his thrusts until his orgasm was bubbling beneath his skin, ready to come out and announce itself proudly to the world. Scott's back was arched, head thrown back as he cried out when he came first. It happened in a flash so quick, if you blinked, you'd miss it, and Scott effectively made a mess over himself. Just the sight of it had Stiles coming several seconds later. It was almost perfectly timed, because that was just **_so them_**. Everything they did, they did together. Or they used to.

"Oh, my God," Stiles sighed, content. "I can't believe it."

They were still panting, still sweaty and sticky and all gross from their liaison. Scott reached over and wrapped an arm around Stiles' waist, pulling him close so that his head was pressed against his chest. He could hear his heartbeat perfectly, beating excitedly in a way that was comforting to Scott to where he felt his eyes become heavy and soon they were both fast asleep, blissfully away in the clouds, away from the worst of the world.

Scott had awoke to the sound of his phone buzzing. He had a small headache, which went away instantly once he regained his train of thought. He looked over to his bag and heard his phone ringing. He kept it on vibrate because his werewolf hearing made him sensitive to the ringtone, and the buzzing noise was a lot more bearable. He reached over and pulled his bag toward him before fishing the phone out of the front pocket to check who it was.

He had seventeen missed calls and ten unanswered text messages. He shot upright, muttering, "Shit," under his breath.

He swiped his passcode and his face turned pale white. Derek had called him six times and sent him three texts.

[ **From Derek:** ] _Scott answer phone_

[ **From Derek:** ] _PICK UP GETTIN WORRIED_

[ **From Derek:** ] _Im coming over_

Scott raked his fingers through his hair as he tracked the date of the texts. They were all from last night, thirteen hours ago. He remembered that he was supposed to call Derek last night, but he had gotten distracted by Stiles. Shit, this wasn't good. If Derek had said he was coming by, he would've been there in record time. Considering the time, he would guess that he had already been here and if he had been here, he would've seen . . .

"Oh, no," Scott said in a panicky voice. "Oh, fuck. FUCK!"

He jumped out of bed and began searching for his clothes before he realized that he should probably shower first. He had jumped in, wasting no time to scrub himself raw until he could eliminate all tracs of Stiles from him. He thought that it may have already been too late, but he didn't want to risk things by rubbing salt in the wounds. If Derek had really seen him and Stiles together, smelling like Stiles' come would not help the matter.

Stiles was brought out of his lovely dreams about blueberry pancakes, scratching his head in confusion as he watched Scott frantically put his clothes on like he was the boyfriend who was about to get shot by the girlfriend's dad.

"What happened?"

"I have to go, it's Derek," Scott announced, "He knows."

"Knows what?"

"He knows about us!" Scott yelled. "He had to have seen us. Oh, god, I can't believe it."

Scott was out of the room like a bat out of hell, leaving Stiles to hang back. He grabbed his phone on the nightstand and examined the time: 11:14PM.

It was time to get up because he had business to attend to.

Scott had ran all the way from his house to Derek's loft. That was about a fifty mile jog, but he managed to get there in forty-five minutes. He had checked his mother messages from the pack and none were happy.

[ **From Isaac:** ] _Dude derek's upset abt smthn_

[ **From Jackson:** ] _Wtf did you do?_

[ **From Isaac:** ] _Pck up._

[ **From Erica:** ] _You need to come to loft._

[ **From Thing 2:** ] _U R in trobule_

[ **From Thing 1:** ] _U better get here fast_

[ **From Isaac:** ] _Its not lookin good man_

He ran up the flight of stairs, feeling foolish about halfway up because he could've taken the elevator. He got to the front door and began listening closely. He could hear one heartbeat and it was definitely Derek's. Judging by the way it increased slightly seconds after his arrival, Scott would bet that Derek already knew he had came. He slowly slid the door open, finding Derek standing in front of the table with a map of Beacon Hills splayed out. He didn't acknowledge his presence when he entered the loft and that was definitely not a good sign.

"D-Derek?" Scott said shakily. He was beyond terrified, he didn't know what the Alpha would do. "Derek? I-I, uhm—I'm sorry I missed your calls."

No response. He was dead meat.

"Derek, I'm sorry."

"You know, Scott," Derek said suddenly as he turned around, green eyes boring into Scott like they were staring into his soul and not in the same deep way that was with Stiles. "No matter how hard you scrub yourself with that Irish Spring soap or wash your hair out with peach-scented shampoo, you're never really going to get the smell of **_him_** —" He had said with so much disdain that Scott knew there was no mistaking who Derek was referring to. "—completely off. Or what you both did last night."

And there it was. Scott felt like the entire world fell on top of him, crushing him and making it hard to breathe. Derek was shaking his head in disappointment. He didn't smell angry, he smelled sad and hurt, and Scott would've preferred if he were angry and yelling at him because seeing the completely devastated look on his face was so much worse.

"Derek, I'm so sorry."

Derek wasn't looking at him now, feeling completely betrayed. Scott didn't know what else to do except continue pleading and apologizing, unaware that every word was just making the situation worse. Eventually, Derek stalked over to Scott and the young wolf backed away, terrified and unsure of what his Alpha was going to do to him. He flinched when he felt Derek grab his wrist and held up in front of him. He dared himself to peek his eyes open. Derek was staring at Scott's ring, the symbol of their future mating, their promise to be with one another. He had stared at it fondly before pulling it off Scott's finger and tossing it aside in one swift movement.

Derek released his hold on Scott's wrist before removing and tossing his own ring aside. He walked past Scott and out the door, leaving the Beta in the loft by himself.

Stiles pulled over to the front of Argent house. A part of him knew this was basically suicide, but another part of him needed this closure. He wasn't going to stand by and let the man who murdered his mother walk away like he could. He rang the doorbell, waiting patiently until someone finally answered.

"Can I help you?" It was man, probably late thirties, and traces of silver across his stubble. He was attractive and had really large, white teeth.

"Is Gerard home?" Stiles asked.

"What do you want with him?"

"Just to talk."

The man eyed him suspiciously. "Wait here."

Stiles waited for several minutes before the man decided to let him in, mumbling that he had to go run some errands but that Gerard was in the basement. He led him all the way to the front door of the basement before turning the other way to leave. Stiles took a deep breath before turning the knob and going in.

"I'm down here," came a throaty voice. It was Gerard. "I had a feeling you'd be by. Stiles Stilinski."

Stiles made a full stop at the base of the stairs, one foot still in the air. "How did you know I'd be by?"

"Oh, I've been hunting down foxes since before your dad was born. I know how to out-trick the trickster. You always need to be one step ahead."

Stiles glared at him.

"You're the one who killed my mom, aren't you?" Stiles said. "My real mom. Margaret Connor. She was murdered almost fifteen years ago, three weeks before I was adopted by the Stilinskis. I have the paperwork and the dates match-up."

Gerard just smiled at him. To any other person, it would seem like a warm, grandfatherly smile. But this smile was anything but warm. It was cold, cruel, and it could give children nightmares for weeks. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Stiles glared at him. "Oh, you definitely know what—"

"But if I did," Gerard interrupted him with the most venomous of replies, "I can guarantee you that she suffered to her last breath. You foxes have no place in this world. And if I had my way, I would scrape the skin off your fragile bones and stitch them together, making a rug for my living room. And every time I walk in and scrape the dog shit from boot, I'll be reminded of how I did this world a service by killing each and every last one of you sorry, miserable, little beasts."

Stiles felt a chill run up his spine. This man was a psycho. No, in fact, he was beyond psychotic. This man was pure evil. "Why did you do it? Are do you hate foxes so much?"

"You younger generation," Gerard said with disdain, "Always so obsessed with a 'why'. Who needs a 'why'? What would a 'why' do for you? What kind of peace could you imagine yourself having if I gave you a 'why' to your mother's death?"

"I just don't get it."

"Motive isn't even important, sometimes a hunter just wants to hunt."

Stiles felt sick to his stomach. "You're insane."

"I think the politically correct term these days is Handicap-American," the old man quipped, chuckling at his joke.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure Eichen House will love that one." This earned him a throaty chortle. Guess the old Stilinski's still got it. "So you killed my mother for sport."

Gerard flashed him a poisonous smile. "I didn't kill your mother, I targeted her and the wolves found their way to her. The Hales were always so naïve, especially Derek." Stiles blinked at him, confused. "Oh, don't look so clueless. You really think a family of werewolves like the Hale family, who always go by the code _'we hunt those who hunt us'_ , would agree to the killing of innocent people? Who'd have thought an old fart like me could have such a strong influence over the Hale family?"

"They were innocent? So how did you get the Hales to go after them?"

"Oh, just a little bit of stretch of the truth, is all. I mean, you wouldn't willingly put a somebody on death row unless you were absolutely sure they were guilty, right?

Stiles was in shock. "You framed them?"

"I did what had I to do to erase the problem from this world. I told you, foxes don't deserve to breathe the same air as we do. They don't deserve to have their furs being used as rugs to keep us warm during the winter. You are nothing but a walking abomination, a plague on this planet and if it's the last thing I do before I die, I swear I'll claim another one of you disgusting creatures."

Stiles could feel another wave of cold going through him. There was no doubt about it, this man was the devil.

"Now get out of my house, you worthless damnation," Gerard said threateningly. "And don't even try to go to the police with your little theories. It'd be my word against yours and I assure you, I'm a powerful man in this town."

He turned on his heel and made for the basement steps, but he stopped when he heard his voice replaying back to him distortedly.

"I won't need to," Stiles quipped as he held up a tape recorder.

" _But if I did, I guarantee you she suffered to her last breath._ " He stopped the recorder, smirking smugly at him. Noshiko was right. Foxes are clever tricksters.

Except for one thing . . . Stiles may have overlooked one small detail. The fact that Gerard was blocking the entrance.

It all happened so fast, that Stiles could barely make out anything. Gerard had lunged forward with such incredible speed, Stiles wondered if he was a werewolf, too. The man grabbed Stiles' neck and layed a nasty punch to his gut, knocking the wind clean out of him. He dropped the recorder as he was thrown to the ground before being pelted with an endless barrage of punches. The old man was unnaturally strong and relentless with the way he pounded into Stiles' face without ever hesitating or getting in a snarky remark like those Bond villains in the movies.

No, Gerard Argent wasted no time in beating the ever-living shit out of Stiles like he was one of those punching clowns that came back up after you hit one right in the kisser. The blows were coming at him so fast, that his body wasn't even registering any pain. His eyes just flashed white as the man continued his brutal assault. He could hear bones snap, his face crack, and the warm, wet feeling of blood gushing down his cheek and his nose. He thought, for a moment, that the man was going to kill him.

He fucked up taunting that recorder in his face. He should've been smart about this and wait until he was in a safe zone. How could Stiles be so stupid?

When Gerard was finally done, he looked down at the bloody mess he made all over the teen's face, and Stiles was struggling to breath normally. His face felt like it had went through a blender and he was pretty sure his ribs were cracked. The old man stood over him, ominously and intimidating, and Stiles felt like this was the moment where his life would finally end.

"I'm not going to kill you right now," Gerard stated. "I'm going to let you suffer. Just like I made your mother suffer before I put a bullet into her head. I'm gonna drag you out of my house, lock you in my trunk and then toss you out into the preserve where you'll be lying there with nothing but your happy childhood memories and the knowledge of the small inch of life you have left bringing you comfort. Because after today, you're gonna die. I'm going to send my Betas after you, tracking you down and killing you slowly. Their going to dig their claws into your stomach, twist them around, and spill your intestines onto the floor. And I'll come in to deal the final blow. I'm going to put the barrel of my 9MM handgun to your forehead, and then I'm gonna tell you to say hello to both of your dead mothers before I pull the trigger and end your miserable life."

Stiles let out a pained, choking sound as the man hovered over him. Gerard placed his foot over Stiles' right hand, before stepping down and crushing his fingers, making the boy scream out in agonizing pain. He could hear the sick crunches of his fingers being flattened and Stiles was practically begging for death to take him away.

Scott just sat in his room, not bothering to do anything around the house to get his mind off everything. If anything, he wanted to think about it. He didn't deserve not to. He felt terrible, like a knife had been stabbed into his gut and twisted around. Except this pain wasn't just going to heal with magical werewolf powers. This wound was going to take a while to heal. It was the invisible scars that always seem to be the ones that last the longest.

He thought about calling Derek again, except the Alpha wasn't accepting his calls. He didn't even know where Stiles had gone off to. He tried dialing him up, but no answer, what a surprise. Scott felt helpless where he was at. And all he could think about was if everyone was going to be okay.

Derek was relieved to see that Gerard was home because he really needed to confide in someone. After everything that had happened with Scott, he wasn't even sure if there was anyone he could trust, but Gerard agreed to listen to his story with an open mind as they both retired to the basement for some privacy. The old man hummed sympathetically when Derek told him about Scott's scent and what he and that fox had done. And then told him about the rings and how Derek felt like a complete idiot for believing that things could actually work out for him.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Derek," Gerard said reassuringly. "It's not your fault that Scott betrayed you the way he did. Rolling around with a **_fox_** . . . Disgraceful!"

Derek's nostrils began flaring wildly, claws beginning to extend, as he gripped the edge of the table in anger.

"Derek, I'm going to need you to calm down," Gerard said as he eyed the Alpha.

Derek began to pace the room as he tried his best to keep his breathing even, but inside he was boiling. He wanted nothing more than to run out and rip that fox apart for even going near his mate. He always knew there was something about Stiles that he didn't like. His claws finally curled fully out of his fingers as his eyes glowed bloody red.

"Derek!" Gerard yelled.

Derek snapped back to reality, claws retracting and eyes returning their normal green shade.

"I want to kill him," Derek seethed, "I want to dig my claws into his neck."

"I don't doubt you do, Derek."

Derek would **_love_** to give that fox a piece of his mind, but he knew that he couldn't. Stiles may have been an annoying brat, but there was no reason to hurt him if he hadn't intentionally hurt anyone else. Now that Derek had settled down, he began to think about Scott and Stiles' relationship and how close they were. Closer than Scott and Derek. A small tug at his heart began to pick at him as he thought about the future of the pack and what this could mean for Scott and him. It was just so **_wrong_**. A fox and a wolf. Derek felt like he could throw up. He wasn't naïve. He could see the writing on the wall and he knew that he was fighting a losing battle. Scott had a life before becoming a werewolf. He had a life with that fox, however repulsive Derek had found it. But at the end of the day, he just wants Scott to be happy.

"Oh, Derek," Gerard started pityingly. "I know it hurts. I know you were grooming the young one to be your mate. Tragic how love can be the happiest and, at the same time, most depressing thing in your life. One second, you feel like you could take on the gods and in the next second, your world comes crashing down in flames. Poetic, is it not?"

"Not really," Derek mumbled, not looking at the older gentleman.

"Don't be so down, Derek," Gerard continued, ignoring the comment.

Derek sighed sadly as he resigned himself to the truth. "I just don't know what to do."

Gerard studied him before narrowing his eyes and hissing, "You're just going to let that abomination steal your mate away from you?"

Derek looked away. "I can't force him to be my mate."

"Scott loves you, Derek," the old man argued, "There is no doubt about it. It's that **_thing_** that's poisoning his mind. Making him believe that they're in love."

Derek frowned. At best, Stiles was a clumsy idiot. As much as Derek hated him and possibly wanted to throw a few punches at him, there was nothing about him that really spelled "dangerous".

As if reading his mind, Gerard slammed his palm on the desk, startling the Alpha out of his thoughts. "Don't underestimate a fox! You know our code."

" _Hunt those who hunt us_ ," Derek recited. "But what does that have to do with Stiles? He hasn't hurt anyone."

Gerard walked over to his cabinet and pulled out one of his guns. "No, it hasn't. It's done a lot worse. It's infiltrated our pack. Open your eyes, Derek. That fox has got this pack wrapped around its finger."

Derek was staring at him, slack-jawed and eyes wide as Gerard spoke. "It controls Scott. And if it controls Scott, it controls **_you_**. The fox knows that you would die for Scott and it will use that to its advantage."

Derek blinked at him and started thinking to himself. "That young wolf is naïve and confused. He believes that foxes and wolves can be friends. But you know better than I do that that is not possible." Derek's frown became lower as he nodded his head in understanding.

"But—"

"No 'buts', Derek!" Gerard hissed and Derek was slightly taken aback at how frank and assertive the man was being. "Would you die for Scott?"

Derek hesitated.

"Would. You. Die. For. Scott?" the man asked again and this time Derek's response was immediate.

"Yes. Yes, I'd do anything for him."

"Do you love Scott?"

Derek nodded his head. "Yes, I love him."

"Then you need to **_take care_** of the problem."

Again, Derek's jaw went slack. "You want me to kill Stiles?"

Gerard smirked darkly. "No, **_you_** want to kill Stiles. Were you not saying just a few minutes ago how you wanted to dig your claws into that thing's neck?"

"Th-that was just—"

"What? An expression?" Gerard stood close to him. "Expressions are just previews of our inner thoughts and deepest desires." Gerard was adamant, his scent had spiked up to something that Derek wasn't even sure about. He was looking at him with a fervent look in his eye, demanding and vengeful. "What are you going to do if Stiles ends up betraying Scott and has him killed?"

Derek saw red. He had heard enough. Without thinking, he grabbed Gerard by the collar and began roaring in his face, fangs bared and eyes glowing. The old hunter was unfazed, barely even acknowledging the amazing power of the Alpha. "I take it that means 'yes'?"

Derek released his hold on Gerard and stomped out of the basement. The man watched him leave with a smirk on his face, because he knew that he had won in the end. He wasn't going to follow the feral Alpha, however, as he had other fish to fry.

Stiles hacked out a nasty cough as he held the bloody tissue against his nose. His chest instantly hurt at the action, a sharp pain digging into his sternum before moving down to his aching ribs. His room was filled with nothing but the ragged heaves coming out of his mouth. He tried to move the side of his face, but he was met with a throbbing pain on his cheek. That psychotic geriatric had really done a number on him. He probably thought it was hilarious to beat him up, smack him around a little bit, happily pummeling down on him until he was a pulpy mess.

He wanted to go back and tell him off, but truth be told, he really liked functioning limbs and he'd probably be killed, so he decided against it. He was lucky enough that the old fart let him live. He did have to wonder why though. As much as he wasn't surprised over his violent onslaught, he was more confused why he would just let him live like that. He had Stiles right where he wanted. It reeked of monkey business. He wanted to call Scott to tell him everything, but remembered that his phone was messed up after the beating, so now he was stuck in his room, bruised and cut up and helpless while the man who murdered his mother was out walking around and his ex-boyfriend was probably a shivering mess of tears because of whatever drama was going on with him and his **_adult_** boyfriend/mate/whatever that's called.

"Fuck," Stiles muttered. He stood, wincing at the pain and limped over to his door. Screw his safety, he needed to make sure that Scott was okay.

As soon as he opened his door, his dad appeared at the frame. Under his arm was a bag of Chinese— _he shouldn't be eating that!_ —but he instantly dropped it on Stiles' desk and placed both his hands on his chin as he examined his face with a panicked look.

"Oh, my God, Stiles," his father yelled worriedly. "What the hell happened to you? Who did this?"

"Nobody, dad," he mumbled, but the sheriff wasn't satisfied.

"Tell me who did this, Stiles," he demanded. "Right now."

"Don't worry about it, dad," Stiles replied. He didn't want his dad to add anymore extra stress on himself.

John shook his head indignantly and clenched his fist tightly. "I swear to God, Stiles, you tell me who did this. I am going to make them pay for this."

Stiles still didn't answer.

"Did Scott do this?" The sheriff's eyes were burning. He was determined to get to the bottom of this.

Stiles looked at him like he was crazy. "No!"

"Are you telling me the truth!"

"Dad, Scott didn't do this! You know he wouldn't hurt anyone." Or, at least, he'd like to think so.

His dad tried his best to stay calm, but the sight of his son's mangled face every time he looked in his direction was preventing him from doing so.

"Dad, please," Stiles pleaded weakly. "Just don't."

"Stiles . . ." The sheriff pulled him into a tight hug and Stiles finally let out a few tears that he didn't even know were there. "Please, you need to tell me. Please."

"I'm sorry," Stiles croaked.

"No, it's not your fault, Stiles," John wept. "Fuck, Stiles, I just want you to be honest with me."

Their moment was cut short when the power had gone off.

"Ahh, Christ, what the hell happened?" the sheriff muttered under his breath. "Did the circuit breakers go out again?"

Stiles had an easy feeling in his stomach. It was like that part in the horror movie where the lights go out and no one really thinks anything of it and when they least expect— _BAM!_ They were dead.

_Thwack._

The sheriff's unconscious body toppled over to Stiles' feet as a figure appeared from where his dad had been standing.

"Oh, God," Stiles whispered.

Derek Hale was standing there, eyes glowing bright red and his claws out and ready to tear through foxy fleshy goodness.

"Oh, shit, oh, shit," Stiles whimpered. "L-l-look, pal. Erm, I mean, bro. Or your highness . . . Mr. Alpha, sir . . . Whatever you're thinking, it wasn't me. It was Gerard. He's been lying to you. Bro, wait, just a minute."

The feral wolf stalked over slowly, almost like he was playing with his food. "I tried understanding the best as I could. I didn't force Scott to stop seeing you. I gave him a choice. He chose me, but then **_you_** come along." He was clenching his fists, prickling the skin and bleeding out over the hardwood. That was so sick and kind of awesome.

 _Focus, Stiles_.

"You took everything . . . And for what? What is your goal, fox? Take advantage of my Beta? Of my mate? Do you think you can come into my territory, take away my mate, and destroy my pack?"

Stiles was holding his hands up in defense until his back was against the wall. "What are you talking about, dude? What did that old nutjob tell you?"

With a startling roar, Derek lunged at Stiles with swift movement. He prayed to any gods up in the sky: Jesus, Buddha, Allah, whatever divine power that was on duty at the moment to help him survive this. Derek took a swipe at his face, but he dodged it. As a fox, he had just as much agility as a werewolf, if not more. They may pale in comparison in strength, but they made up for it in speed.

Stiles managed to scramble to his feet. He lunged forward suddenly, something Derek didn't expect and his claws clipped Stiles' shoulder, but Stiles was able to grab the car keys from where they were hanging on the key holder and charged out of the house. He practically jumped into his jeep as he frantically tried to get the keys into the ignition. He was able to get them and turned the engine on when the door to his jeep was torn off like it was made of paper. Stiles jerked the gear shift to reverse and stepped on the gas.

Derek had his claws dug deep into his baby, hanging off the side of the car as Stiles drove down the road and out of the neighborhood. He was swiping at the windshield, cracking it, making it more difficult for Stiles to see anything as he continued driving all the way down until he was driving through rough terrain of the hiking trail. Derek was still trying to make a grab for Stiles, even after the young fox drove past some low hanging trees, in which the leaves and branches slapped the Alpha over the head.

Derek made another attempt to grab Stiles and this time he was able to snag his sleeve with one of his claws and had begun pulling, ripping it apart and causing Stiles to hang out of the jeep enough so that he was staring into a pair of ruby red eyes and sharp teeth. And suddenly there was a loud crash and Stiles was being jerked forward by the impact.

The jeep was no longer moving and neither were Stiles or Derek.


	6. Goodbye May Seem Forever, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Sorry that this update took so long. The reason for the late entry was that I just didn't like what I wrote for the finale. It just didn't flow well with the story. Plus, I cut out a few scenes that were supposed to tell Gerard's backstory, but I didn't want people sympathizing with his character. He's supposed to be evil through and through, though I kind of did hint a little of why he is the way he is. See if you can catch it.
> 
> Also, I needed a better ending for Derek because he was kind of portrayed as an asshole this entire fic. Lemme just be clear, I don't like painting Derek the bad guy. I've heard the headcanons and the meta and all that about Derek in Season 2 and so on, I don't care. I like Derek and I like portraying him in a positive light. In this fic, he was the only viable choice to play Chief, who wasn't much of a sympathetic character. So I needed to change things up for him. I already have two positive-Derek fics in the works, so look out for those.
> 
> And I guess enjoy the final chapter! Thanks for being so patient and sticking with me the entire time. And kudos to the other author's and artists who were a part of the Sciles Big Bang. You guys killed it.

_Sacrifices are a necessary evil for a greater cause. There was no right or wrong in this world anymore, only what's best and what's not. No one on this planet is a genuinely good person. There are just some people with more good than bad in them, and some, the other way around._

_And Gerard Argent was one of those people with less good than bad._

_Gerard had idly stood by as the panicked screams of the Hale family filled his ears before being drowned out by the roaring flames engulfing the house. Such wasted potential. He remembered his argument with Talia about a fox that had been living in Beacon Hills for almost ten years: a Dr. Kenneth Tanaka. When he had learned about this, he had been disgusted with the fact that his own trusted friend and ally would keep such an abomination in Beacon Hills for so long._

_But Talia, always the know-it-all and always the sympathetic person that she was, had assured Gerard that Tanaka was very much a kind-hearted individual. Foxes were never kind. They were always evil. At least, in Gerard's mind, they were. He would never understand Talia's growing need to sympathize with everyone walking creature of the night that passes by Beacon Hills. Did she really think they would all get together, throw a party and dance to "Monster Mash"? She was naïve, just like a wolf. That's why the hunters were always the ones coming up with the plans._

_It was when Gerard realized that he wouldn't be able to convince Talia to turn against Tanaka that he realized he would have to go shopping for a new wolf. Derek Hale was still young, athletic, and pretty stupid in comparison to his mother. He would be easy to manipulate to get him to do what he wanted. When news breaks out that a fire killed his family and that it was Tanaka who had viciously betrayed his parents, he'll do the right thing and have the problem eliminated._

_As the fire began to die down and the sounds of fire trucks came out from the distance, Gerard left the premises, thinking up a plan for his next move. When dealing with foxes, you play the game like chess. It's all about patience and thinking about your next move before you make your first._

Scott had text Isaac to see if he has heard anything from Derek, and was told that no one has heard from him in hours. He was beginning to get a little worried. Actually, scratch that. He was more than worried. He had been freaking out ever since Derek left him at the loft. Scott had only been back at Beacon Hills for barely twenty-hours and suddenly everything has gone wrong. He didn't know where Derek was, he didn't know where Stiles was, and he honestly didn't even know what he would do if he did know where they were.

He drove over to Stiles' place to see the sheriff had been knocked on unconscious, he could lightly smell the faint scent of anger and fear around the room, which he had immediately figured out had belong to Derek and Stiles respectively. He called Isaac and Erica up to give him a ride because he couldn't drive and scent the air at the same time and he needed to find Stiles and Derek in the best way that he could.

Derek had always boasted about how great of a tracker Scott was. He could smell things from miles away, find the objects that they'd hide at the training facility. Even when he was young, he'd always somehow manage to find Stiles whenever they played hide-and-seek. So when he tracked the scent over to where the faint smells of a faulty exhaust and burnt tire rubber had steadily become stronger in his nose, he knew he had to be getting close. The scent had led them to the hiking trail where they was wisp of smoke in the air like a beacon calling out to the ships in the sea. What the Betas saw had nearly made them topple over in despair.

Derek was pinned against a large boulder by Stiles' jeep. There was blood seeping from wounds that were visible through rips in his shirt. Scott almost broke down at the sight, but he managed enough energy to rush over to Derek's side. He looked a lot worse than he did from afar. He just looked so completely wrecked. Scott let out a choked sob as carefully shook Derek awake. His heartbeat was faint, but he was still alive.

Derek fluttered his eyes open slowly. "G-Gerard?" he said weakly.

"No, it's Scott," the young Beta corrected, sniffling.

Derek's face scrunched a bit. "Wh-wh-where . . . ?"

Scott rubbed a thumb over Derek's face and said, "I'm right here."

"Where's . . . where's . . . ?"

He let out a gurgly cough, spewing flecks of black and red from his mouth. It was a sickly sight, and Scott wasn't sure what he was even seeing at the moment. He didn't think it was normal, even for a werewolf, to bleed black blood and it definitely did not look like a good sign of health either. He knew that he had to get Derek out of here and to a hospital or maybe to Gerard to see if he could find a way to heal Derek.

"Isaac! Erica!" he called out to the other Betas, who were just standing there with devastated looks on their faces. "Help me pull the jeep away."

He was met with choked whimpers and heavy sobs. Their Alpha was dying before their eyes and they were helpless, almost completely immobile, to do anything.

Before Scott could yell at them again, something caught his wrist. Derek had grabbed onto him and was now looking up at Scott with a sad frown on his face. His color had almost completely diminished, and his eyes were going bloodshot. He winced slightly and almost instinctively, Scott reached down and took away his pain. It was a little trick Derek had taught him at the training camp. He remembered crying when he first did it, but it got easier to absorb pain.

"Sc-Scott," Derek huffed out, "Sc-Scott . . ."

"Derek, don't talk, we have to get you to a hospital." Scott looked over at Isaac and Erica and they both looked practically catatonic. "Derek, we need to get this thing off you."

Derek's head was moving in a way that was probably meant to be a head-shake. "'S'too . . . s'too late."

"No!" Scott growled, eyes beginning to tear up, "Don't say that. We can help you. I can help you. Please, just help me get this off you. Please . . . just . . . just let me help you."

His voice sounded so broken and he couldn't hold the tears in his eyes any longer. Suddenly, he could hear Erica and Isaac howling at the night sky. They were signalling the rest of the pack. He turned back to Derek, whimpering solemnly as he wiped a strip of blood from his Alpha's temple.

"What do I do?" Scott asked, because he felt completely helpless at the moment.

Derek groaned and Scott took more of his pain away. "Don't . . . 's'fine. It—It's okay. It's okay."

It was then when realization finally hit him. Derek wasn't going to come back from this. "Derek . . . It's not okay. It's really not okay."

"Scott, I need—I need to tell you something," the Alpha started. "I'm—I'm sorry. Just—just be happy, okay? Be happy, Scott. Don't worry about . . . Just do whatever makes you happy, okay?"

Scott didn't respond. He just stayed by his side, rubbing his thumb soothingly over Derek's, which he held tightly in his own hand. The man smiled softly at him, eyes still sparkling even under the circumstances.

"I love you, Scott," Derek had suddenly said and it caught Scott off guard.

He had felt his heart practically shoot into his throat when he heard the words. "I know you didn't feel the same way about me," Derek continued, "Bu-but you would've made the perfect mate. Just like I said."

Derek's arm suddenly latched onto Scott's, startling him. Scott watched as Derek's claws extended and pierced through his flesh and into his veins. He was taken aback by the sudden motion, wondering why Derek would do such a thing. Even if he were mad over the Stiles thing, he would never hurt Scott or any of his Betas.

Scott could feel blood rushing through his veins, and he looked at Derek, confused. Suddenly, his vision began to blur and the gray color that usually followed whenever he'd go into his wolf form was now turning a deep red color. As if on instinct, he began to let out a startling roar.

Erica and Isaac looked on, watching as their fellow pack brother's eyes had gone from the warm, yellow gold color to the powerful shade of red. Red like an Alpha.

When it was all done, Derek let his hand droop and he sighed sadly.

"Y-you . . . you're the Alpha now," he said weakly. "T-take care of the pack, take care of them."

The new young Alpha just sat there with Isaac and Erica walking to his side, waiting for the inevitable. Everything was just so fucked up now. His entire world had come crashing down in a matter of hours . . . again. And now he didn't know what to think anymore. Images began to flash in his mind of Derek yelling at him over learning how to drive or teaching him how to control his shifts and the time he woke up in Derek's protective arms before it shifted over to when Derek gave him the ring in San Francisco. It wasn't fair. Despite all the bad that has happened in his life and the dubious things that he has done, Scott had truly believed that Derek was a good guy. He didn't deserve this. He deserved to be happy. Everyone did . . .

"I love you, too, Derek," Scott said finally, and he meant it. He loved Stiles, he definitely did, but there was a part of him that really did love Derek. Whatever kind of love it was, it was genuine and they were going to be the last words he would hear on this earth.

Derek responded with a big smile on his face, eyes now closed and at peace. Scott leaned down to place a soft kiss to Derek's lips before he squeezed his hand in his and waited.

He hadn't move an inch until Derek's weak grip began to loosen more and more. Eventually, Derek's hand fell limp and Scott could no longer hear his heartbeat.

Scott let out the loudest roar he could, the sound booming into the night sky.

Stiles had somehow found his way through the trees and over the bend of the lake. His collarbone was killing him, but he was thankfully healing. Yet another perk of being a supernatural creature. He looked over his shoulder at the woods where, in the out rim of the area, he had left his jeep, crashed up against a rock with a dead werewolf attatched on the front. This was beyond bad. He had killed a guy. Derek was definitely dead or dying at least. Sure he'd entertain the idea of killing Derek, but that was just expressive thinking, nothing to take seriously. And Derek had attacked him first. It was only self-defence. Stiles could've been killed.

It was all things he'd tell himself in his head over and over to justify what had happened, because if he didn't, he'd probably go completely insane with guilt. He didn't even know how he would explain this to Scott.

Once he was done taking a breather, he ran back into the deeper part of the forest, hoping to somehow to find a way he could get out of this sticky situation.

Scott felt like he was numb. He was unable to hear anything or even notice the people surrounding him. News of Derek's death hit the pack hard. When wolf loses a pack member, it was almost like a part of their soul was being ripped away from them. The grieving pain was unbearable. Scott had been sobbing all night, mourning the loss of his Alpha. The other Betas were looking to him like he had all the answers, except for Jackson, who only stared at him with anger, resentment, and jealousy. The usual looks. Melissa wrapped her arms around him, comforting him or, at least, trying to.

There was no sign of Stiles anywhere. The sheriff had called every person he knew, but Stiles had disappeared. He was nowhere to be found. The sheriff had started a city-wide search for his son, frantically checking all of the usual hangouts of Stiles' before turning to his classmates for answers. Scott wasn't able to help him, but if he could, he could probably find him. Scott was the best tracker the pack had and if he tried hard enough he could find Stiles in less than a day.

The doorbell rang and Scott could sense Gerard's scent from the living room.

The man's face looked down-trodden and haggard. He must have taken Derek's death just as hard. "My son," he greeted with that signature raspy voice, "How are you feeling?"

Scott just shrugged. Truth be told, he hasn't showered or eaten right since Derek's death the week before. He barely even changed clothes (he chose not to wear underwear for the most part). In short, Scott McCall felt like complete shit and he really wasn't in the mood for sympathy. He just wanted to lie in bed and not talk to anyone. He led Gerard to the living room, not even bothering to put on something reasonable as they both plopped against the couch.

"I know you're hurting a lot, Scott," Gerard continued. "But we have business to attend to."

Scott sighed, annoyed. "I don't wanna talk about pack stuff right now."

"You don't have a choice, boy," the man said gruffly. "You're the Alpha now. You have a duty to fulfill."

"About what?"

Gerard gave him a dark look. "That fox killed one of our own. You know our code."

Scott sucked in a breath. He was afraid something like this would come up. The pack had even brought it up to him several times, but he chose to ignore it until he could figure out what to do. "We don't know what happened."

"He hit Derek with a car," the elder Argent said frankly, " ** _His_** jeep. That's pretty damning evidence."

Scott winced. "Stiles would never—"

"But he did," Gerard pressed. "And he would do it again. He led you to believe that he was your friend. That is what foxes do."

"I-I just wanna hear his version of the story first."

"There aren't any versions that will justify what he had done to Derek. He needs to atone for his actions, Scott," the man asserted, "He is a dangerous creature to have around. Foxes are known for their devious ways."

Scott hesitantly shook his head. "I-I can't kill someone . . . I can't."

Gerard stepped closer to him. "Yes, you can," he said. Scott may have been the Alpha now, but it was clear who was in charge between the two. "You will kill the fox who killed my wolf."

"I-I don't want to."

Gerard narrowed his eyes at him, a far cry from the usual calming demeanor of a sweet, old man that Scott was used to when he was around. "What would Derek think about this? About choosing a fox over your brothers and sisters? Why would you spit on his legacy? The legacy that he died for? He died for this pack, Scott. He died for **_you_**."

Scott looked up at him with sad eyes. "For me?"

"He came by to see me, he was so hurt by what you had done . . . with that **_thing_**." There was so much venom and hatred on his tongue that it had scared Scott a little without how dark the man was being. "Rolling around your bedsheets. Speading your legs for him." Gerard shrugged his shoulders. "Not that I would know about your preferences in the bedroom, I just assume from your mannerisms that you would be the one receiving, rather than giving."

Scott wasn't sure if he should say something about that insulting remark or keep his mouth shut. Although, with Gerard, it was probably best he shut his mouth and listen without interjecting.

"You don't have to kill him," Gerard said finally. Scott looked at him with hopeful eyes. "But you do have to find him. Help us find the fox and we'll take care for him for you."

Scott's stomach dropped and he felt like he was going to pass out or maybe puke all over Gerard's Italian shoes. The man was looking at him expectantly, but Scott was too busy at war with himself to really give a response.

Stiles hadn't shown up for the entire first week of school. Most of the students just assumed he was dead, possibly mauled by a bear or something, but Kira knew better. She knew that Stiles had gone to see Gerard Argent about his mother. That was the last she'd seen of him since then. She would've gone to the police to investigate, but Stiles swore to Kira that she would not tell anyone. Not even her mother, who had only trained Stiles to wield the katana in self-defence against the werewolves. Kira began to have theories about Stiles going to kill the old man for what he had done. She wasn't sure if he would do it or not, but he seemed pretty determined to prove Gerard killed his mother.

She had to admit, she had been pretty oblivious about the _kitsune_ stuff until her mother had revealed it later on when she took on Stiles as a sort of protégé. From then on, Kira began to realize her full potential. She felt more powerful, more agile, even if most of the things she does shocked her.

Since it was Friday, Coach Finstock would normally make the cross country kids run laps around the hiking trail. Kira liked to get a head start over the rest of the group, being surrounded by so many people made her uncomfortable. As she was jogging along to the deeper part of the woods, she was suddenly being lifted up into the air and dropped onto a pile of leaves.

A body pinned her down and she thrashed about, screaming for help until her mouth was being covered by a filthy hand.

"Shh, shh, Kira, it's me!" said Stiles.

He looked like hell got ran over. His clothes were filthy, he's pretty sure there was blood on them, and he looked like he barely had any sleep or a decent meal in days.

"Stiles? Where have you been? Everyone's looking for you!"

"I know, I know! They're after me, I couldn't stay at my place. It was too dangerous for my dad. They coulda—They coulda killed him."

He was breathing really hard. Kira wondered if he hadn't properly hydrated in the past week. He was also looking a little wobbly-legged, like his limbs were suddenly made of jelly and he had trouble standing straight. Eventually, he just plopped down on his butt almost passed out.

"Stiles!" Kira shrieked. "When's the last time you've eaten?"

Stiles shrugged. "Two days, I think. I managed to sneak by my house to grab a few things and some food. I don't know what to do. They're after me. They're not gonna stop."

"Who?"

"The Betas. They've been tracking me for past five days. I don't know where to go."

Kira latched on to his wrist, "We need to get you to the nurse. Or the lunch lady. I don't know. You just need something in you."

"Has your face always been purple?" Stiles slurred.

"Oh, Stiles," the female fox exclaimed, frustrated.

She threw his arm over her shoulder and the two began walking toward the beginning of the trail. They got about half way there before Kira suddenly stopped.

"What's going on?" Stiles asked before looking up and seeing what made her stop in the first place.

It was Erica and Boyd, looking pretty mean-looking with the way their eyes were glowing yellow and the pretty nasty, raptor-looking claws on each of their hands. The two Betas were snarling at the two foxes, who looked completely helpless to defend themselves.

"I don't suppose you're hiding that katana under your jogging pants, eh?" Stiles asked.

That was a big, hard no as the two foxes bolted into the other direction, prompt Erica and Boyd to follow after them. Any energy Stiles had left in him, he dedicated it to not stopping at all while the Betas chased after them like this was the Road Runner vs. Wile E. Coyote segment on _Looney Tunes_. Where was an ACME crate falling on one of the wolves' heads when you needed one?

Stiles and Kira were able to duck through the bend and over some branches. The Betas had tried to corner them at the lake, but they jumped in to lose them. When they resurfaced, the two werewolves were gone.

Scott had the Betas on perimeter patrol for the next until nightfall. Kira and Stiles were out there somewhere and he was going to find them. Erica and Boyd had spotted them by the jogging trail where the high school would use for cross-country, so they wouldn't have gotten far. He had the twins scope out the far end where the high cliffs were while Jackson and Isaac would keep watch around the main road. Scott, on the other hand, would be in the center of the forest, tracking them.

He didn't need to sniff any of Stiles' clothing to know his former friend's scent. He just needed to take one big whiff of the air and he would be able to trail him. He walked over to where Erica and Boyd had last seen them, patiently waiting until the moon was high in the sky and he could feel himself getting more powerful by the light. It was time.

He picked up a small, but potent smell of rainwater smell that usually followed Stiles and he tracked it across the lake. With a howling roar, he signaled the other Betas and followed the trail to his target.

The ground was all mushy and slippery from the rain that had happened a few days ago.

Stiles and Kira were clawing their way through thick trees and bushes as they desperately tried to find the main path. At this point, it almost seemed hopeless for them. Stiles wasn't even sure what his endgame plan was and he ususally always thought things through. He could hear the howls in the distance and he knew that they were closing in. Kira was clinging to him desperately, shaking with fear.

The Betas were looking for him, not her. If she stayed with him, she'll likely be killed along with him. "Kira, you have to go," he said with a raspy voice. He was so thirsty and his stomach felt like it was going to dry up. "You have to get away from me."

Kira looked at him in confusion. "But what about you?"

"Don't worry about me. You have to find a shelter or something."

Kira shook her head. "They'll find me."

"If they find you with me, you'll be dead meat."

"What if they find me without you?" Stiles didn't respond. "Please, we have to stay together."

A loud howling suddenly came, which was soon followed by several overlapping howls.

"Shit. We have to go."

He followed the scent through the thicker part of the forest where the trees were practically a wall of leaves and bark. It would be easier to get lost within them and an easy place for Stiles to hide. The Betas had already found themselves by his side and they all began to sprint through the forest in wolf form toward their target.

The scent had begun to grow stronger and stronger until he was sure that Stiles was close.

He was ready. He was going to find Stiles.

And when he did, he was going to . . .

Stiles and Kira had finally given up on trying to lose the Betas on land and opted to climb the trees. His springiness and agility from all those weeks of training at Noshiko's were finally paying off, but his energy was slowly diminishing with each passing second. He knew he was going to drop soon, but he had to be strong enough to at least get Kira to safe spot.

They hopped easily from one branch to the other. Kira was leaping a lot higher and faster than Stiles was and she was at least two trees ahead of him. He would've said something, but he knew that she needed to keep going, even if he was lagging behind. The wolves were getting closer, he could hear their howls and he was sure that they had tracked his scent and was on his trail.

"Stiles, come on," Kira called out to him.

Stiles could feel his breath becoming more short and ragged, and suddenly his entire body was feeling weak and heavy. He leapt to another branch and that one act felt like it had almost completely drained him. He took breather when he reached his eleventh branch, trying his best to swallow down the bile in his throat. Everything was doubling before his eyes. He made for the branch in front of him and missed.

"Stiles! Stiles!"

His body felt like it was floating now. His vision was still blurred to the point where he couldn't even see anything anymore and soon his body hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of him.

"Stiles! Stiles!" Kira's screams were practically nonexistant to him. All he wanted to do was sleep. Or die, whichever came first. Kira had jumped down to rush to his side, lifting him up as best as she could. The added weight was making them go at a much slower pace.

"Just leave me, Kira," Stiles huffed out. "It's over. You can still make it."

Kira ignored him and continued pushing through. Stiles' head was lolling in all directions. "Come on! We have to keep going."

Stiles willed himself to move forward. Suddenly, there was a loud clanging sound, followed by a sharp pain shooting up his leg, leaving him immobile. He cried out in pain and fell face forward into the ground, taking Kira with him.

"I can't move my leg," Stiles hissed as he inspected the damage. His leg was definitely broken, and was that . . . ? Yep, that was definitely blood gushing out. There was no doubt about it, he was royally fucked.

"You need to go. GO!" Stiles screamed. "Now! Before they get here!"

Kira swallowed the lump in her throat, but nodded her head and made a quick dash in the other direction. She got all of ten feet before she was knocked down by a strong arm, twisting her ankle. Erica then suddenly appeared from where she was hiding behind the tree, and soon following were the rest of the pack of evil twink wolves. They were all wearing nothing but gym shorts, puffing their chests out as if they were gods amongst men.

"Stiles . . ." came Scott's voice. He walked forward, inside the circle that the wolves had made.

All of the adrenaline was helping Stiles see clear and although things were still blurry, he could make out Scott's face perfectly. "Hey, Scotty." He licked his chapped lips. "So, this is it, huh?"

"You killed Derek," Scott stated.

Stiles took a deep breath. "So do it then," he said. "But I want it to be you."

Scott looked at him, eyebrows furrowed.

"I want you to be the one to kill me. If all of this is for Derek, if you're really going to lead the wolves to me, then do it yourself!" He was yelling now. "Come on! Don't let them do your dirty work!"

Scott opened his mouth to respond, but stopped himself when a bright light began shining on the foxes and the pack. Scott recoginized as Gerard's truck, as if to make pressure on him even heavier. The old hunter stepped out of the car with his son Chris and now all eyes were on him.

"Well done, Scott, well done!" Gerard said praisingly. "I didn't think you could do it, but you've made Derek proud. He would want this."

"No, he wouldn't!" Stiles yelled.

Jackson growled. "You don't know anything about what our Alpha wanted!"

The fox rolled his eyes. "No, you're right, I don't. But I know you guys live by a code, right? _Hunt those who hunt us?_ What happened with me and Derek was an accident. He attacked me first."

"He's lying, it's what he does," Gerard interjected. "Kill him, Scott."

"I'm not lying, Scott," Stiles pleaded. "You know me. You know me better than anyone here."

"Kill him."

"It was all Gerard. Gerard was the one who killed my mom. My real mom. Remember I told you I was adopted? He killed my mother all those years ago."

"Kill him now!"

Scott looked over at Gerard. His heart was racing and he was sweating under his neck. "What are you talking about?"

"He's lying, Scott. Kill him now!" Gerard was getting angry.

"He killed my mother. He killed the other foxes in the town. The ones the Hales used to hunt because they thought they were evil! He was the one who framed them so the wolves could go after them."

"Goddamn it, Scott! I told you to kill that fox!" Gerard yelled angrily, aiming his gun at Stiles. As soon as he got his aim, he pulled the trigger and a single shot rang out.

Scott knew he was wrong. Even if Stiles had killed Derek, he knew he was wrong. This was all wrong. Scott had been a terrible friend to Stiles and it was all becuse of this fucked up logic that foxes and wolves can't be friends. Well, they were friends for over ten years and they somehow managed to survive just fine. Scott took a moment to think about what Stiles was saying. It was coming out in frantic jumbled sentences, but he could still understand because he was once Stiles' best friend and had mastered the art of interpreting his insanity.

He thought back to the days they were together, the days of hide-and-seek and _Mario Kart_ and sleepovers and laughing and being happy.

Scott's eyes widened. Derek's words rang back into his head. Be happy. Scott couldn't have imagined a time he was happier than when he was with Stiles. He let himself be pressured into doing something that he didn't want to do. He didn't want to be a werewolf, he didn't want to join a pack or even become an Alpha. He just wanted to be with Stiles.

And he managed to fuck that up. He wasn't sure if he could even fix this. But looking over at the way Gerard was pointing the gun at Stiles, he was sure as hell going to try.

As soon as he saw Gerard's finger twitch in the way it would twitch before he pulled the trigger, he was running, straight for Stiles. The shot rang out and suddenly there was a piercing pain into his side. The bullet had struck him, right through the side of his ribs, but he didn't hit Stiles and that was all that mattered.

"Y-you shot him," Isaac said quietly.

Gerard looked at the young Alpha in disgust. Without warning, he pulled the trigger again and shot Scott again, this time, in the arm, and this time, intentional. "Stupid animal."

The pack began whispering to each other frantically, voicing noises of protest and confusion.

"What are you all looking at? You know the code! Your Alpha is weak and useless." He sent a dark look over at Scott, who was currently writhing in the ground in pain. "I always knew you were soft. You let that fox mount you like some common dog **_bitch_** and now you're protecting him? You're worthless, Scott."

"M-maybe we should just—" Isaac began cautiously, voice quiet.

Gerard immediately glared at him. "Just what, Isaac? Let him go? Give him a second chance? There are no second chances. He killed my wolf!"

"No, he didn't," someone had spoke up. All eyes went straight to Gerard's son, Chris. He stepped forward, his face stressed out like what he was about to do was difficult for him. "Stiles didn't kill Derek."

Gerard's jaw went slack. "Christopher . . . What do you think you're doing?"

Chris looked away. He dug through his jacket pocket and pulled out a tiny bottle, the kind that doctors used to store medicine.

"Where did you get that?" Gerard said through gritted teeth. He was looking at Chris like he was ready to turn the gun on him and plant one right between his eyeballs.

"I found this at the house and kept it with me."

"What is that?" Scott asked from his spot on the ground.

"It's called _Aconitum anthora_ ," the young hunter replied. "It's a special brand of wolfsbane. It's among the deadliest wolfsbane of them and will cause a slow and painful death for a werewolf."

Scott and Stiles exchanged a look, as did the rest of the pack.

_Derek felt weak, but he was still alive. He felt foolish for having lost his mind the way he did. He had a pack to think about. If he had died, he would have let them down. He'd have let his family down. This wasn't what his family had built their pack around. They swore to protect themselves from danger. As annoying as he was, Stiles wasn't a danger to anyone._

_Derek hacked out a cough. He needed to get this jeep off of him so he could heal properly. A bright light was suddenly shining on him as a vehicle turned up. It was Gerard's, finally someone he could trust._

_"Gerard," Derek breathed out. "I need your help. I need you to get help push this off of me."_

_Gerard walked closer to him, eyes studying the situation. "Is the fox dead?"_

_Derek furrowed his eyebrows. "N-no, he's not. He got away, but—but I'm not even sure I care anymore."_

_Gerard's entire scent shifted and he smelled angry. Derek was confused by the smell because he wasn't sure why Gerard would be so mad at him. The old man cracked his knuckles, the sickening sounds of bones popping filling Derek's ears. He turned around and began to reach into his jacket pocket for something._

_"You know, Derek," the old hunter began, "I really am concerned for Scott. All of the other Betas seem so willing to follow rules and stay in line, but Scott? Scott was always fighting against all of this. Against us. Maybe that's why you wanted him to be your mate. You could have any Beta you wanted, but you wanted the one that was different. Too different, if you ask me."_

_Derek was completely bewildered by now. He always knew that Gerard shared his hatred for foxes, just as much as he did. Especially since a fox had killed his brother, Alexander, all those years ago. But the way the man spoke, it was haunting and sent a chill up Derek's spine. It sounded . . . **unpleasant**._

_"Wh-what are you talking about?" the Alpha asked as Gerard turned toward him, arms behind his back like he was hiding something. "What are you hiding?"_

_"Something that will help move things forward." Gerard smiled at him. It wasn't the proud, doting smile that Gerard used to give him when he was a young wolf and still learning to control his shifts. This smile was something different. Something he wasn't able to recognize. "What Scott needs is . . . an incentive. He needs to learn what his place in this world is and that's a blood-thirsty fox killer."_

_Before Derek could reply, there was a sharp prick at his neck. Gerard's arm had extended and stuck a needle just below his jugular, injecting some kind of liquid into his body. "Goodbye, Derek. You were always my favorite wolf."_

_Gerard had turned to leave and Derek could feel himself becoming light-headed and his vision was starting to go fuzzy. "Ger-Gerard . . . **Gerard**."_

"What's your point, Christopher?" Gerard bit out, "That I killed Derek?"

"Deaton told me that Derek had traces of wolfsbane in his veins."

"And how do we know that **_thing_** didn't poison him?"

"I highly doubt Stiles could've gotten a hold of this kind of wolfsbane. We keep it in locked safe at a special location. Even the most clever of foxes wouldn't be able to know where it was."

"He could've found it at that animal doctor's place."

But Chris shook his head. "Even if Deaton had this kind of wolfsbane, I checked the vault. The wolfsbane we had there is gone."

Gerard sneered at him. He looked like he was ready to make a break for his SUV before he was stopped at the sound of the Betas growling at him. Erica had let Kira fall to the ground and joined Isaac, Boyd, and the twins in circling Gerard.

"What are you all looking at?" Gerard spat out. "You think you can raise your claws to me? You are all stupid animals who can barely wipe your own asses without someone holding your hand. _YOU NEED ME! HOW DARE YOU GO AGAINST ME?_ "

He fired shots at them just as they charged forward. Isaac took a bullet to the leg and Boyd took two the ribs, but Erica got in a good swipe at Gerard's wrist, knocking the gun out of his hand. Chris pulled out his handgun and aimed for Gerard. "You're done, Gerard."

"You don't have a thing on me, Christopher. When all this is done, I'm going to personally make sure you all regret everything you all just did right now."

Chris sneered at him. "We'll see about that." He turned to Scott, who seemed to have healed enough during the chaos to stand right back up. "You good, Scott?"

Scott nodded his head before turning over to inspect Stiles. "We have to get you to a hospital."

"You're just going to let them go?" Jackson growled angrily.

Scott sighed, annoyed, and turned his head to look at the pissed off Beta, who was huffing and puffing like some bull ready to charge. "This is wrong, Jackson," he said to him. "We're predators, we don't have to be killers."

The Beta was still snarling at him, almost challenging, but Scott didn't want to bother himself with this. He ordered Erica to help Kira to the van while he would help with Stiles since Isaac and Boyd needed some time to heal for themselves. Before he could even get to his friend's side, a stinging pain slashed over his back, followed by Jackson's roars of anger.

"Jackson!" Isaac cried out, but the feral Beta ignored him and continued to slash at Scott, barely missing the young Alpha's face.

"What is he doing?" Kira shouted, panicked.

"He's challenging him . . . for Alpha," Chris had answered as they all watched Alpha and Beta fight. Jackson was trying his best to get a shot at Scott's neck and eyes, while Scott was just trying his best to dodge him, trying his best to ignore the pain from the wounds on his back. Even with the injury, he was still faster than Jackson. He continued backing away until he felt both of his arms caught between two strong pairs of arms. The twins had a strong grip on Scott's arms, preventing him from evading Jackson's attacks as the Beta then began slashing at his chest.

Blood was splattering everywhere and howls of agony were filling everyone's ears. Jackson let out a loud growl before he raised his bloody claws up to get one good swipe at Scott's neck. But just as Jackson was about to make his next move, something went right through his stomach. Stiles had somehow managed to pull free from the bear trap and was shakily holding onto the edge of a wooden branch that he was able to get clean through Jackson's abdomen. With all the strength he had, he pulled the branch out and Jackson flopped to the ground, whimpering in pain.

The twins let go of Scott, backing away slowly as they watched the crazed look in Stiles' glowing, fiery-orange eyes. He at Aiden who cowardly backed away before turning to run into the deeper parts of the forest with Ethan in tow. Jackson was still alive, but he did not move and instead began to moan dramatically, as if begging for attention.

Scott spat out some blood before saying thanks to Stiles. "We have to go . . ." he declared weakly, "We have to go now."

"Scott," Stiles said, "You're hurt."

"You're hurt and I'll heal," the Alpha said, trembling slightly. He looked ready to pass out. "We have to get you and Kira to a hospital."

Stiles didn't argue. He barely had the energy to speak. He just patted a weak hand to Scott's shoulder before letting Isaac and Boyd help them both up and take them to the SUV, despite their own injuries. Their Alpha was in need, so they had to help.

"What about the twins? And Jackson?" Erica asked once the foxes and Scott had been safely loaded up and buckled into the backseat, completely ignoring the fact that they were getting blood everywhere.

Scott just shrugged his shoulders. "If they don't want to be in the pack, that's on them."

Scott had never liked the twins or Jackson anyway. Even when was Derek still the Alpha, Jackson and Scott have always had this rivalry between one another. When Derek succeeded his Alpha spark to Scott, that was practically the nail in the coffin for them and he knew that he and Jackson would never be on good terms with one another.

"Let's go."

Stiles woke up and fell right back to sleep several times. He knew he was in the hospital, if the monotonic sounds of those heart monitor machine thingies was anything to go by. He just didn't know if he had been there for days or if it was just a few hours. The last thing he remembered was Scott lying in the back of a van, covered in his own blood, practically half dead from the onslaught of Jackson and the twins.

"Stiles," came a voice. It was his father. He sounded worried. He hated when his father sounded worried, especially over him. He almost felt like a burden whenever that happened and things were stressful enough in his life without Stiles making things worse.

"'M fine," Stiles said stubbornly. He probaby could've been convincing if he didn't sound like he was dying. "Swear, I'm fine."

The sheriff just looked at his son with pity. "I'm really happy your safe, son." He squeezed his hand tightly, almost as if he was afraid letting go would mean that he wouldn't see Stiles again. And if they were being honest, he almost didn't see him ever again. The last memory he had of Stiles were bruises and cuts all over his face.

"Where's Gerard?"

"It's okay, Stiles," John said reassuringly, "We got him already."

"How?"

"His son, Christopher, had called the station and tipped us off," he explained, "Said that he had information and evidence on the Hale fire, Dr. Tanaka's disappearance and a bunch of other cases that had gone unsolved. Apparently Gerard has been doing this for a long time."

Stiles nodded his head.

"And . . ." John was hesitating. Stiles knew that look. "Your mom. Your real mom."

Stiles had sucked in a deep breath. "I know."

John crinkled his brows. "You know? How?"

"The mother of a friend of mine knew her."

His dad looked at him like he expected more, but decided against it when Melissa came in to check his vitals. When she was done, he asked if Scott was okay and she told him that he was still healing from his wounds.

"I can't believe that guy would be crazy enough to shoot a kid," John sighed, shaking his head. "I'm glad that Scott's okay."

The nurse nodded her head. "He's a fighter."

"I wanna see him, I wanna see Scott."

Melissa shook her head. "You need to rest, Stiles. Your leg is pretty torn up."

"But—"

"Rest. You'll see Scott later."

Scott pulled the covers off him as he inspected himself. Being Alpha had several perks, like a more enhanced healing factor than the regular Beta wolf. While he was still aching in places, the wounds had all almost completely stitched up. He sighed, affirming the situation. A teenaged Alpha werewolf who barely had a clue about how this even worked and he just tried to kill his best friend.

The door opened and Stiles limped his way in.

"Stiles!" Scott exclaimed as he jumped off the bed, wincing at the pain. "Stiles what are you doing? You're hurt, you need to heal."

Stiles just shrugged. "I needed to see you."

Scott couldn't bring himself to say any words, and Stiles was too doped out to really want to try to think. He was just thankful that it was all over, except for the fact that Scott had literally taken a bullet for him.

Finally, the silence got to be too much and Scott was the first to speak. "I'm so sorry."

"Dude . . . don't worry about it."

"No, no, I want to worry about it. It's not okay, Stiles. I don't even know where we'll stand after this."

Stiles shook his head. "Dude, dude. After the shit I've been through, I am just so done with all of this bullshit drama. I've had enough drama for one lifetime. Please, please, just stop thinking about it. For me, at least. I forgive you, you forgive me, we call scream for ice cream. Yadda yadda yadda."

Scott snorted before they both took a seat in one of the hospital chairs. They sat in silence for a moment.

"What happens now?" Scott asked.

Stiles just shrugged. "I don't know. Let's just be us again? I don't want us to be Scott or Stiles. I want us to be Scott **_and_** Stiles."

"Like boyfriends? Or just friends?"

"Doesn't matter. I just want it to be you and me again."

A smile played on Scott's face and he lifted Stiles' hand to place a small kiss to his knuckles.

"Y'know, Stiles," he said suddenly. "You're my very best friend."

Stiles couldn't help the goofy smile forming on his face. Scott was such a dork sometimes, but that's why he loved him. "And you're mine, too, Scott."

"We're always gonna be friends forever, won't we?"

"Yeah, Stiles. Forever."

Jackson and the twins had left town. They didn't call any of the pack members, nor did they even leave a note behind for their parents. It was like they never existed. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd stayed behind to be closer with the pack, which extended it's invite to Stiles and Kira. While Stiles happily accepted the offer, Kira had decided to move back to New York with her parents, bidding the wolves a farewell. She had managed to sneak one kiss goodbye to Stiles, which he will take to his grave without ever letting Scott know. (He already knew.)

Gerard was set to go on trial, and even if he managed to weasel his way out of it, his name was already out there. There wasn't going to be a place for him to hide and he wasn't going to hurt Stiles or the pack anymore. With the scandal of his father basically shaming the Argent name, Chris elected to hide away to Europe where he had hoped to leave this awful memory behind him.

Senior came and everyone had begun stressing where they'd go for college. Erica and Boyd had begun dating over the summer and when graduation finally came, he asked her to marry him. Isaac got accepted to Berkley while Stiles and Scott had tried their hardest to get into UC Davis together.

"We're in! We're fucking in Scotty!" Stiles shouted out, practically tackling Scott to the ground after they had opened their acceptance letters.

Everything seemed to be falling into place.

"Before we go, I want to go see Derek," Scott suggested.

Stiles nodded his head in understanding. Derek had been buried in the Beacon Hills Cemetary. It was only the pack and Argent who attended the funeral. It was small and simple, but no less sentimental. Stiles had elected to skip on the ceremony, however. It probably would've been in poor taste if he had gone. And Laura was nowhere to be found, so it was like they were Derek's only family.

"He wasn't a bad guy," Scott said suddenly. They walked over to where Derek's grave sat, right next to his parents and his sister Cora. He only got a small plaque in the ground, not really worthy of Derek's legacy, but at least Scott and the pack would know how great he was. "He really wasn't."

Stiles remained silent as he watched Scott replace a wilted bouqet with a new one. "He was lied to for a lot of his life. I feel bad for him. I think he just wanted to belong somewhere."

"I know that feeling," Stiles said with a nod. He just admitted to having something in common with Derek. Go figure. "I know you miss him, Scott. I'm sure he's happy that you're happy."

There was a pause. "You are happy, right?"

Scott wiped a tear that had been threatening to fall and sniffed. "Yeah, definitely."

The stood, staring at Derek's grave for a little while longer before deciding to return to the jeep and driving off. They drove down the main road toward the preserve where they parked off the road where no one could see them.

"You wanna do this right here?" Stiles asked as Scott walked ahead of him.

Scott pulled his shirt over his head and began to shuck his pants down to his ankles. Stiles smirked as he enjoyed the show of the boy he loved stripping right in front of him.

"Are you gonna join?" Scott said with the same knowing smirk.

Stiles didn't need to be told twice before he was tossing his clothes off his body. As soon as the clothes were off, Stiles' back began to twist and his arms jutted out as red-orange fur began sprouting out from his skin. Before leaving for New York, Noshiko had taught him one last trick . . .

Following his lead, Scott began to shift into his wolf form until there was just an abnormally large fox and wolf standing in a pool of clothes. They couldn't communicate with each other, being that they were different species and all, but they had long mastered silent communication with each other.

Scott let out a barking roar, earning a precious tail wag from Stiles. The wolf nipped at the fox's ears affectionately before the two shape-shifters sprinted deeper into the preserve, where they had decided to play a friendly game of hide-and-seek.

And just like when they were kids, Scott had found Stiles every single time.


	7. Fanmix: Music from the Fox and the Wolf

**Created for the Sciles Big Bang 2015.[Download fanmix here](https://www.dropbox.com/s/at038vo1grx2rn8/Fox%20%26%20Wolf.zip?dl=0).**

**Fanmix and all graphics were put together by[ravingliberal](http://ravingliberal.tumblr.com/):**

  1. A Sorta Fairytale -  _Tori Amos_ ([Listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C_C23JCduok))
  2. Bells & Whistle -  _The Spring Standards_ ([Listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T-qoj0t_O74))
  3. I've Got You Memorized - _Ivy_ ([Listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bTh6DrRLQF8))
  4. Sparrow & the Wolf -  _James Vincent McMorrow_ ([Listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sj81-5NcDKU))
  5. My Friends -  _Laura Marling_ ([Listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=89634st_FOY))
  6. The Oil Slick -  _Frightened Rabbit_ ([Listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4gTP7VNc3cw))
  7. Evening -  _The Wilderness of Manitoba_ ([Listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hHUBZ0jI3Zo))
  8. Love, Love, Love -  _Avalanche City_ ([Listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YWzzbuJJYQc))
  9. Sleep Tonight -  _Stars_ ([Listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XqV9NJWNH7c))
  10. Dark Parts - _Perfume Genius_ ([Listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E5WNqvdIfJ8))
  11. We Can't Be Friends -  _Lorene Scafaria_ ([Listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r-nVFpZ7tfI))
  12. Rebellion - _Benjamin Francis Leftwich_ ([Listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gHSOnXJMDgk))
  13. Walk Off - _The National_ ([Listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IpXBv7HaGI8))



**Author's Note:**

> [Contact Me](http://hobroseyberry.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
>   
> 


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